The swallows sweep the suture,
The pines do pine the plotting,
For nature brings upon our souls,
The Patriot wielding knotting.
This binding is of a freedom,
The freedom to be bound
And the cries of the free are diminished
By the bound’s boundless happy sound
We crave for self protection
But through this we seek our end
The inverting of the world shall make,
The explosion of our mend.
The yielding of brilliant colors,
Leaves us blind and unaware,
But the blind do see the black and white,
The world awake and bare.
The cannons are created
Creations to destroy
But the cannons cannon themselves twofold
And destruction is destroyed.
This quest that leads to happiness
Is a happiness to lead a quest
And the journey that one makes to create this
His journey is naught but rest.
-Hahner
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