The Call of the Waiting (by Myron K)
by Myron K. Pour out the blood ye Seraphim, Man soft has sung his song: the knell Of death-stained scythe and heroes fell, A Prince of tears, and sullied whim. Most sickly bears the loathing fang, More keenly set than edge of blade. A tempered peace and seeming fade, The living flesh spits pungent tang. [...]












