Luftwaffe

A mandate of hate commanding the air, showers its shells embedding with fear, all victims of hope now victims of war. Spreading its wings and harvesting night, this mandate of hate sought to covet the sun’s light. How bitter the sheaves, that darken one’s sight, as to hail a cross that’s disfigured, disfigured by hate, in a mandate of death reaching unto the sky but reaching no further. Thanks be to the Cross of Christ that reaches into the very heart of heaven bringing forth the great commission of love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.