Franklin Van Valkenburg
Standing on the palisade as the sun sets,
Under a violet sky splashed with fire.
A sea of tall soft wisps of prairie grass,
Rustling as prevailing winds brush over the plains.
Alone, a wooden fort of desolation,
Built by the hands of soldiers and the carpenter.
Standing vigilant watch over the innocent,
Men, women, and children of another land.
Troopers in blue, yellow bandannas,
Sworn to defend and protect against
All enemies, foreign and domestic, an
Oath to their Constitution, their way of life.
Over the horizon, the glow of a bonfire,
The drums of savage war and the cries of
Heathens as they perform their rituals and dances.
They chant for war, to defend their way of life.
Battle is imminent, merely a matter of time.
To expel the white man, for manifest destiny.
Soon the bugle will sound and the troopers
Will man the ramparts as the war party rides.
A war between two ways of vastly different life,
Ongoing for two millenia across nations,
Heaven and Hell clashing behind facades of flags,
Only His soldiers can see the war the world cannot.