I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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A shivering wind, pitiless, resounds;
Borders of mercy, a constant patrol.
Unresponsive to time and human law;
Beyond our sense its infamies control.
Read between the lines of tomorrow's page,
Such unnatural notions seem to destroy
That for which we own vain comprehension;
Know not we the pains wrought in its employ.
Whose defeat would but signally incur
The wrath of torment to which we defer,
When trapped in those grey shades of inaction,
Unknowing if black or white we prefer.
Should fortune we defy to exit as
Victor from the fight, emerging unscathed;
Celebrate shall we the end of its reign -
Witness to a world in virtue's light bathed.