0. The Mars
In a world of so many things to be
A man could shirk every modern Shield to
Take up those of old, as old as astral
Entities and the traits assigned them by
Humans justifying their wonderment
Their far away resplendence, dots in
The sky, that’s where we find the Mars spinning
Red from churning rage, red rum flowing
Sending airs to ensnare man to violence
Or solitary brilliance, fearless
The Mars is a Shield of Old Honor
That is seldom taken today, but by
A few born in the spring, and one
Could bring peace or smash everything to ruin
1. The Combatants
The power struggle amongst the Shields goes
Through everyday, as the women and men
Bring honor to the mundane, just to be
Is enough; to prattle, to make like herd
To shuffle shit, it is what we know to do
In between moments of sublimity
That is just as relative as our purpose
That is enough. The Shields come later when
We look up to find others like ourselves
Who are us themselves, whose existence is
Relatively important to me, as
the other for whom I would give my life
With the promise that they will keep me up
About amongst the living with my Shield
PRL Serials 