I die naked sheltered only by tombs, wielding stones to score my flesh.
I vainly engrave an everlasting memorial, a bloody epitaph to my demise.
I listen, battle-worn, to the multitude who speaks my name.
This multitude desolates, crowded in emptiness and waste, their lies bind the mind.
Their fear heaps chains upon my fetters with shackles which only burst into terror.
We wage unending war, the only spoils our scars, brokenness and fear.
Invading our beachhead, the legion falls upon their faces begging, ‘damn us not’.
They would stay where stupid pigs harmlessly feed on the grassy hillside.
At your word they mount on grisly chariots, riding one last conquest into the sea.
Battle silent, you set me to rest by the fire, among friends, one chosen and beloved.
Bidding to stay, I hunger to follow and feast at your table full and warm.
At your word, graciously you give me to a multitude still longing for pigs.
I wear eternal garments, sheltered under rock, magnificent righteousness covering my flesh.
I gloriously display an everlasting memorial, a human epitaph to your conquest.
I speak joyful emptiness to the multitude bearing your name.