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micropatterns of nature 

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Dulce et decorum est,
to die for your fatherland.
It always takes the young and best,
and is a means to an end.

When Northern lands had a lousy season,
and Cimbers pillaged towards the South,
one may accept that they had reason,
because one has to fill the mouth.

But mostly one deceased for power,
zeal of many a selfish king,
and once again fate plucked the flower:
Able men in their fullest spring.

Man faded, for some faith,
the right one none could tell.
With all these gods there was no grace,
and myriads of men went to hell.

Nowadays we die for oil,
lubricating worldlwide trade,
bringing politicians to the boil,
whilst our brave youngsters fade.

Soon we will expire for water,
most valuable earthly treasure,
and to please President Bloater,
we again will die with pleasure.