Revolution. Change. A mantra repeated oft enough; the children believed. Something counter-cultural. Counter-culture metamorphosed into the status quo; children waiting and expecting the God of War to take his crown and man-made throne.
But the God of War is dead. And the God of Peace isn’t listening. And this, the now young generation cannot believe. So they take their swords and their daggers and their slings and march off to the beat of the Pope’s new Crusade. Sending deceived soldiers off to die; bowing before the latest fad, worshiping this craze and that, singing songs Hell published for deceit; no one remembers the Children’s Crusade of centuries past and in this certain fashion history repeats.
The Young Generation ages and teaches the next. Revolution. Change. A mantra repeated more than oft enough. Maybe time healed the fatal wounds of the God of War. And maybe the God of Peace will listen this time.
The Young Generation’s soldiers march off to die. I’ll send their Revolution to the despair of Hell. Revolution is rebellion; Job once told a tale of the highest angel’s fall.