A trumpeter ascends the hill,
declares the conflict war.
A power-struggle thus begins,
axioms will shatter.
The challenged equilibrium,
once truth, and whole and nothing but,
becomes a battle’s centerpiece.
I am prepared to hold our ground
soldiers wearing unobstructed reality
Mine wear ideals, stone carved convictions
which are unmaneuverable.
Nothing but a Phyrric loss seems possible.