the sword of Damacles begins its creaking dissent amid madness and bitter resentment the darkening dawn ahead… prescient. Armaggedon beckoning (to borrow a phrase from a friendly poet) with skillful ways to praise using words of beauty…or malaise born of forethought…not meaning to surprise. As fear and foreboding take their toll among the nervous and volatile the peace and self-confidence wane as the shadow lengthens  o’er … Continue reading Sword Swinging (a poem, thanks to E)