Synergetic

Constantly fatigued:

fighting for futile ideals
in which I believe,
until I be leaved from this earth

upon my eve of occultation.

I've been warring since 777 BC,
and before AD-lineation of time
was ever conceived.

My spirit is ancient.

It guided David against Goliath,
Osiris against extinction,
Sitting Bull against disease,
the Goths against Rome,
and Toussaint L'overture against kings.

We know no defeat,
only eternal victory.
Raise your arms,
but you aint killin me,
you only wave your hands
through the endless seas.

Endless, see.

Only casting stones when provoked,
in lieu of the judgment
to be cleaved against broken homes.

However, we will not stop fighting,
regardless of how ever-many enemies
grow mauve with malice,
and green with envy;
these wounds are but wombs
bearing infancies of infantries
for better tomorrows.

We die, but these truths live on vengefully.

This fatigue
will blow over into a second wind.
We are allied with the breeze
which is, and will always be flowing,
regardless of contingencies.

You can sleep when you die.

But we are immortals,
fatigued in battles against time,
money, injustice, lies,
and sleep itself.

None shall defeat the Synergy.