Upon the field I stand,
This is the time of tension
The many things command
The limits of a most mortal self.
In that time, when all took the field
We marched with heads high
Banners waving, high heraldry parading.
But this was no fair, nor
Castle in the air, the enemy is real.
Honor no longer a child’s imagining,
Reality cuts harshly upon virtue.
More than table stakes, blood and soul
Cast upon the battlements of eternity.
This is no invitation, but a challenge —
The calling to lines where things are lost,
And the questions of youth
Fade before experience —
Answered at the edge of a finality
That once seemed distant.
This is the season of many things.
The far fields now seen close,
And the scattered wishes of yesterday
Focused into the necessity of today.
The time of preparations complete —
Though never fully prepared —
On we press, driven by obedience.
There can be no shrug or shirk,
No hiding from Providence.
To all, all must be given.
The lion and the lamb must appear,
Fiercely humble; leaping and laying
Down, before the one thing,
To which all finally conduces.