The shrieking crowd, <br />Hungry snarl of beasts, <br />Hot, blood-soaked sand. <br />All this <br />Was not as loud, <br />As the call to feast, <br />In a quiet land <br />An outstretched hand, <br />Ah bliss!<br /><br />Trevor Toews<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/martyr-s-bliss/
