The Army

The pavements of the mind
carry out an army of hate,
close in ranks and black they walk
out of midnight’s gate.

The people of the land
gape in fear and awe
to see the flags embroidered with
texts from the moral law.

The orderly traffic is broken
the wagons of thought are still,
while troop by troop the soldiers pass
led by an iron will.

They march in endless van
blood-brothers of the night
until the sun draws out his sword
and blinds them with his light.