I think I have bled too much for this –
Your indignation, your war.
You are like the high tide of a storm.
Crashing against a castle on a cliff.
A fortress centuries ago deemed
As nothing other than folly.
I think I should now fervently pray that you
Would take notice of the peasants in the surrounding
Fields and become more like them; their
Humility might not be of their own choosing
And their days are toilsome for meager means, but
They think great thoughts to themselves and then drift off to sleep.