Michael Finch, President of the David Horowitz Freedom Center, recently published a poetry collection titled Finding Home. The poems are about home, nature, love, places in America, the decline of the West, and the plight of Christians in the world today. If you care about those things, you will discover that Finding Home is a collection of nostalgic, poignant, hopeful power.
Check out my review of the book here on FrontPage Mag, and check out this poem titled, "The Last of the West," from the book:
The Last of the West
Has it come to this, the end?
The last fade of the Westward sun sets,
the era of Kings and Christ falls,
Two millennial long, rose and to ash,
the land of Christendom, to die but a whisper?
Mark the date, August 1914,
as the start of a century of ruin and fall,
the end of Athens, Rome, to the white city of Byzantium crowned.
To the Holy Romans, the princes and Kings and Empires ruled
Our civilization built, to such a pitiless end.
To the great reach of freedom from shires patched earth,
the Magna Carta birthed, under the banner,
of St. George’s cross, then passed across seas to the West,
the City on a Hill of America shined bright,
the light of the world, but wrong turned it must.
Faded far from the manger birth,
Far from the martyrs cries, the cross now
emptied and hallowed by our quest
For earthly gain and lustful power seek.
Belief in none is belief in anything, anything,
evil this way comes, our hearts grown cold.
The forsaken of the eternal life, we found,
ourselves wanting and laid to barren waste.
Enemies, ages old, slouching in the darkening Eastern rise,
a beast from Hades itself, the Saracen,
from the blood red desert, of a fire from the belly.
In all its fury and despise,
burns our Holy Cities and faithful to the ground.
One Jerusalem sacked and cried, the world,
again sacrificed the fallen chosen few,
as we turn in shame from our eternal sin,
The followers of the Word then succumbed.
So few remained to our end.
The beast rose from the East and we,
Bowed to pray to the Return, whence it come,
As the sun fades forever gone from the glorious West,
Of Christendom gone.
To get your copy of Michael Finch's Finding Home, click here.
Has it come to this, the end?
Michael Finch, President of the David Horowitz Freedom Center, recently published a poetry collection titled Finding Home. The poems are about home, nature, love, places in America, the decline of the West, and the plight of Christians in the world today. If you care about those things, you will discover that Finding Home is a collection of nostalgic, poignant, hopeful power.
Check out my review of the book here on FrontPage Mag, and check out this poem titled, "The Last of the West," from the book:
The Last of the West
Has it come to this, the end?
The last fade of the Westward sun sets,
the era of Kings and Christ falls,
Two millennial long, rose and to ash,
the land of Christendom, to die but a whisper?
Mark the date, August 1914,
as the start of a century of ruin and fall,
the end of Athens, Rome, to the white city of Byzantium crowned.
To the Holy Romans, the princes and Kings and Empires ruled
Our civilization built, to such a pitiless end.
To the great reach of freedom from shires patched earth,
the Magna Carta birthed, under the banner,
of St. George’s cross, then passed across seas to the West,
the City on a Hill of America shined bright,
the light of the world, but wrong turned it must.
Faded far from the manger birth,
Far from the martyrs cries, the cross now
emptied and hallowed by our quest
For earthly gain and lustful power seek.
Belief in none is belief in anything, anything,
evil this way comes, our hearts grown cold.
The forsaken of the eternal life, we found,
ourselves wanting and laid to barren waste.
Enemies, ages old, slouching in the darkening Eastern rise,
a beast from Hades itself, the Saracen,
from the blood red desert, of a fire from the belly.
In all its fury and despise,
burns our Holy Cities and faithful to the ground.
One Jerusalem sacked and cried, the world,
again sacrificed the fallen chosen few,
as we turn in shame from our eternal sin,
The followers of the Word then succumbed.
So few remained to our end.
The beast rose from the East and we,
Bowed to pray to the Return, whence it come,
As the sun fades forever gone from the glorious West,
Of Christendom gone.
To get your copy of Michael Finch's Finding Home, click here.