This poem was written without the use of AI.
We marched on toward what, we didn’t know
We marched on toward what, we didn’t know
And came upon a horror -
A valiant foe unlike all men
G’liath among the fodder.
Most routed, I stood my ground
and met the mighty thunder -
But laid down arms, no pride I took
In my sword, shield, and armor.
I will tell of my vision:
Death’s shout, mighty roaring, and howling squalor!
His spear and arrows pierced my breast,
And blood flowed like a river.
Then my wife and then my father,
My daughter, friend, and brother -
Took the field and got bested too,
Deep darkness! Woe, ye mourner.
Down, down, down I go - dust and blood -
The earth receives this sinner.
To Him I go - to Him I plead-
My Righteousness and Healer.
The mighty throng takes no delight
In the wisdom of the giver!
Justice demands the life of all
wicked perverse deceivers.
Cast your cords! Cast your chains and bonds!
Cast, fools, your hated “fetters”!
Or turn to Him - you rebel heart -
Who by death has Death bettered.