To The Victor The Spoils::

[Wackadoodle0987]

I'm very unsatisfied with this, but it's more of a release of irritation than any true expression of emotion or quality.


Ah, the soft beat of wings,


Flutter so silently, to us;


But for those whose being so small,


Belies a more fierce, thunderous song,


A cry in the dark


Is to some an ear shattering bellow.


The mighty roar, only it is but the chirp of robins cowering in the eaves.


Who are we


To choose what to fear and to admire?


A spider is a spider, whether bird or fly;


Thus deserving of equal recognition from both.


Is it not as such?


The lion may be mighty, but it is he who cowers


from the storm;


Yet the meek, the unknowing, burrow under; fearless.


Have any of us the right to say what is what, and who is who?


Whereupon our strengths and our weaknesses, decide the value of others.


Ah, but to the victor the spoils;


And so the temporary Lord doth brand each and all,


Until our next leader shall usurp the considerations of the current,


And all shall be brought about again in bitter confrontation.


Set upon us your will, for what choice do we have?