Like a Sadistic hantha virus the infertility ate away our seeds... the children came less and less often to term of their own accord...

Fear gripped the sons of the great war.

All their power had no meaning in the face of this crisis, for each pill and injection, each and every additive and spray, was another Pomegranate seed hour of our daughters fertile youth

Gone forever?

I could not wake from my nightmare!

banished
				The sons shuddered 
Wombs hollow
						Fathers 
denied offspring
 


child emptied
				 What of the 
Family?				 
caverns buried
						No 
mistress/handmaidens here
 

on unhallowed ground.		Weeping meetings of grown men who keep promises.

In my dream, the sons of the great War were many, yea the pale legion, and their lamenting voices were loud across the airwaves....

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