A Sonnet for Principled Heathens

I am not one of God’s Chosen,
Yet I fight his battles;
I have never followed Moses,
Yet I threw Rameses from his saddle
Into the Red Sea collapsing within;
Priests, Shamans, Imams turn me away
As Beelzebub’s charge, riddled with sin
Yet call upon I when Xerxes marches their way
For Holy Hands will condemn but not shed
Immortal blood for fear of becoming the same;
Without a spear they simply lay in bed
Without a fear, without a care, without cowardice shame.
In the dust, Lord, do I wish I could leave them,
But that is not the code of a Principled Heathen.


Adam James Taylor 03/02/2018

Any feedback?

Wow powerfull!
The duality of man in his eternal search for
Peace.....I really like it.

Thank you Rob! I offended some people with that one :P