Across The Atlantic To Hell

There was hope there was also apprehension,
 Because the Demon was in no way healthy.
 Nor was there the mind to be cured.

Yes, we had seen sudden cataclysms happen in Nature
 Of Sun and Rain and Thunder or of primeval beasts,
 But when man gets ill with greed
 Then the damage is worse than that of a natural beast.

At the last stage of endless fortitude
 Of crores of human lives, from the lowest depths
 Of the animal world the beast’s unspeakable
 Mastery in trickery and brutality
 Makes the world itself mute with the Human face covered down.

Yes, there was anxious thought
 Of the pools of the heroes’ blood, the mother’s tears,
 Only the extent of the excess was perhaps not imagined,
 Men as we are, how could we know the frenzy of the beast in us?
 And so we cry forth to the whole world of men.

Across the Atlantic lies the journey to Hell.