WAR
Be confident, cocky, controlling, charismatic, and you’re Her captain. Be negligent, willing, dull, violent, and you’re Her soldier. Be wicked, vicious, a harbinger of death, different, and you’re Her enemy. You’re never the Victim or the Saviour or an Innocent in the eyes of War. To be those would make you Her enemy, Her hatred and fuel, Her survival. But She cares naught for us so why should we feed Her? Why don’t we fight back
and leave Her? Why don’t we kill Her with Peace, Their bow everlasting and clear,
loving and indiscriminate,
War’s bloodshed,
War’s weakness?
We have the numbers
and we can harness
Peace’s guiding light,
yet we instead morph Their
Glory for War’s purposes.
Be forgiving, destroyed, depressed, disgusted by Her ways, and you’re weak. Be loving, unrelenting, hopeful, courageous, and you’re wrong. Fight back, win your love for your fellow man, be a prophet of Peace, and you need to be killed, silenced, replaced. We crave War, feed from Her as She does us, a cyclical silencing that we can escape only in death. It doesn’t have to be this way.. War is weak. Let Her die. Let us breathe new life into the lungs She cauterized so long ago, that my ancestors pierced with blades of obsidian in their attempt to feed our hearts to the god they feared, to feed Her.
Peace can survive without
War. They can live
without Her
dichotomous rage,
but War cannot
live without Peace.
There is no end to Peace,
nor to Their many Children,
but War ends. We will survive, and we will not relent until War succumbs
to Them.
Or we
will die trying