66
CONQUEST.
I trim to the gale, I carry my banner unfurled,
I steer to a chart unseen and unknown of the world.
I challenge the fates, I laugh in the face of defeat,
I look from afar and know not the sign of retreat.
The chosen went forth, I stood with them not on the roll,
I stood in my place uncalled and was valiant of soul.
Denial has been my armor well-tempered and bright,
From pain I have woven banners both crimson and white.
From out of the dark I forged me a trumpet and blew,
From out of the dark came ringing a voice that I knew.
