Glory

In the white wind I toiled the body old;
In the dark dust I tumbled through the age, 
I asked the past: how many souls were sold?

Before the ankh, aum, and spirits cold, 
The warriors soared on Mars with fiery rage, 
In the white wind I toiled the body old.

There they shined in broadswords and shields of gold, 
And weighed their lives with wars and meagre wage. 
I asked the past: how many souls were sold?

On the fields and mounts they stood brave and bold, 
But by the river they made crimson gage,
In the white wind I toiled the body old.

The river had their sodden torso fold—
There their cries muffled in watery cage. 
I asked the past: how many souls were sold?

'Neath the waves the dust had their bodies hold,
'Times the fish would read them like musty page, 
In the white wind I toiled the body old, 
I asked the past: how many souls were sold?

Dale Chou
2001-06-23