As it is

my understanding is mistaken:

 

personal aspiration

must have sullied this vision.

 

Two armies stand assembled

for an outcome that's decided;

 

a battle fought on sacred ground

favours the virtuous,

.

like when the sheriff has the sun

behind him in a gunfight

 

the names of these warriors

are as long as sentences;

 

unfamiliar constructions

await the axe and tumble.

 

I wonder if their quarrel

couldn't be resolved at Scrabble,

 

or must lessons be as pointed

as javelins impaling?

 

Does nothing shock or shatter

your transcendental shell?

 

The gods wag fingers,

yet the sky stands still.