There is a land
where every boy is a man,
where every girl is gone
and every mother has gone with her.
The fields are filled with ice and snow,
food is hunted daily and cooked over open flame.
Every man is a brother and every back is slapped,
every bed is filled with one
every lap is empty.
Every glass is filled with Brew or whiskey
every hand with callouses un-kissed
Stories are told of past monsters and storms
but no battles are sought or found
no glory is lavished
no man is vain.
Life is peaceful
the only deaths are animal.
The men are covered with un-mended furs
their faces are unshaven
their meals are hearty but un-sweet
their hearts are full but unloved.
Love is the greatest fear.
It is known as the great tormentor,
the battle bringer,
the heart breaker.
Love is a solid wicked thing.
It breeds jealousy,
rivalry, hatred.
It is an emotion lost to the ages
It is romance, and Rome is long since gone.
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