At Hand

And those were the easy years,
When freedom was won;
And none knew the cost
With which it had come.

For centuries past,
We had laid down our lives;
How foolish to think
That the world had arrived.

Our souls were all lost
In such fictional lands,
Our fancies were taken
With each passing wind.

Then came the day
When the floor fell through;
Our familiar world gone,
No one knew what to do.

The stagnant shadows
Between wrong and right,
Now swiftly divided
To darkness or light.

Calling all warriors
Wishing to stand,
Calling all saints...
Our time is at hand.