Moscow I

It caters to an arrogance of hate when war becomes a method of despite. Through vile contempt, he seeks to cultivate a dogma that defines inhuman blight. The devil’s plan has given due consent to let annihilation be the goal. Let hands be clean, let hearts bear no lament as slaughter tends to those without a soul. Such dogma fades when blood begins to flow and bigotry assails it deadly blade, for mortal are the men that cede the blow and conscience may defeat the hand he’s played. So, ready zealot sabers if you dare, to pierce the heart that slays the mighty bear. To pierce the heart that slays the mighty bear may doom the earth to despotism’s ire. The purist spawn is all that he will spare and lessor children cast into the fire. His insolence exceeds the rationale that such disdain could fill a human heart, but followers vehemently avow their loyalty, and pledge to play a part. And now the East is all that bars the door as legions roll to crush the crimson pride. The devil plans to split his iron corps to circumvent and trap the bear inside. But Crimson pride holds fast the final gate as Death pursues, intent to decimate. As Death pursues, intent to decimate, the remnants from the Western front reply. They fortify in mass, then lie in wait, as chilling wintry winds intensify. His legions charged to crush the bulwark stance as Ursa stumbled ‘neath the despot’s spear. The fearless front absorbed the piercing glance and though impaled, stood fast against the fear. Though still his trident sought a swift defeat as Red brigades fell victim to its wrath, but winter’s rush crept slowly ‘neath his feet. to stall the charge by hindering its path. And though his lance had pierced the mighty bear its savage teeth and claws, he failed to snare. Its savage teeth and claws he failed to snare as winter’s grip denied aggression’s ire. An icy mist, distilled from Slavic air, transformed the earth into a soggy mire. His iron brigades were swallowed by a maze of fetid muck, dismantling intent. Incessant sleet of festering malaise infused the plagued terrain without relent. Though Rasputitsa stalled his grand design, remorseless fire instilled the Crimson sky. His obstinance swore never to resign. His arrogance vowed victory or die. As winter’s blanket swathed the Bear within, the devil sought to slay it in its den. The devil sought to slay it in its den as legions slowly trudged through snow and ice, but muck denied the devil’s acumen of swiftly trapping prey within a vise. The cornered brute would greet him at the door and thus, the crimson prize it would deny. This mighty bear responded with a roar then reared to front the devil eye to eye. Though dogged was the trident paradigm, the dauntless barb had failed to pierce the heart. His Typhoon wind will dissipate with time as all the ills of winter’s wrath impart. The devil’s hunt was stalled by winter’s vail as swift assaults endeavored to prevail. "This War of Sons" Chapter 5- The Battle of Moscow - Part I