Freedom died last night,
at the age of three hundred, three.
He is survived by his children and his wife,
and some believe, his dreams.

He was found near a glass of gin,
and by codices piled to some height.
A lady friend happened upon him -
(at a quarter past midnight).

Though more details are yet to come,
The facts, as they are, imply,
when all is said and done,
Freedom died...by suicide.

When the gods you long defame,
And their temples break; deform,
When you forsake your fathers’ graves,
And treat the city guards with scorn.

When pagan pleasures you condone,
And build pyres to the northern lights,
When with wine you ever groan,
And long visit women of the night.

When your honor fades and melts,
And every oath becomes unsworn -
Then you will know just how we felt,
Before the greatest war.

Oh, let’s go a sailing,
With windward, wily creep,
Oh let’s go a sailing,
While the watchmen talk or sleep.

Oh, let’s go a sailing
In oceans dark and sore,
Black flags we’ll be flailing,
Like those of pirate yore.

To the shore my men!
We will wade and charge,
To the shore my men,
Let each make his mark!

One mark for each tear,
Two marks for each ache,
Three for every fear,
And for each life we take!

Let our sabers clash!
Yes, clash, bark, then cheer!
Burn all, Burn! my men!
Brand all with fiery fear!

Triumphant we’ll sail on -
The watchmen will be dead,
With the Western shore foregone,
The Eastern will be bled.

Oh, let’s go a sailing,
The West by sea and shore,
When will we go assailing,
My men of boat and horde?

And when I saw his face so near -
for a moment on the screen,
I realized then what some may fear:
that even God has dreams.

And when we reach your land’s purlieu,
and hear men killing men, but of dust,
‘twill be no surprise to us who knew,
that it was, and would be ever thus.

Tell us how your thoughts lend,
Themselves, to every code and creed,
How you’ve learned not to offend,
And so learned not to believe.

My men of Modern means,
Prudent, you have always been,
My men of Modern, please,
Tell us what you have not seen.

Tell us how the world began,
Long before the sea did swim,
Of faith - or the heart of man,
Or the gods you curse and dim.

My men of Modern means,
Sages, you have always been,
My men of Modern, please,
Tell us how the future gleams.

Tell us of your New Earth –
And the glory it will hold,
Where all work is equal worth,
And freedom’s bought and sold.

My men of Modern means,
Triumphant, you will be,
So men of Modern, please,
Begrudge me not this plea:

Moderns, oh so strong and tall,
I have lost and I will bend!
Just tell me how you fooled us all,
Into the madness of this end.

Like you, I loved a woman’s hand,
And treated each with much respect,
I, too, prayed to God for my land,
And every night and day, He blessed.

And I too knew my faults and flaws,
And writhed long the Scriptured page,
Like you, I stared at Nature’s awe,
And a family held, birthed, and made.

Yes. I must be just like you, my son,
An American, but eighty years removed,
Live your life well - as you have done,
That is all I ask of you.