Life is capable of grand versatility;
there’s so many different ways to
end it. Yet, so few ways to save or
preserve it.
I stumbled over weapons left on
the field; the years have punished
them for their deeds, for the lives
they stole.
Men who made these decisions:
Gods, Emperors, Presidents, Generals; somehow few of them paid for it, but soldiers and civilians did.
They paid for the bickering
with their lives. How can men dictate who others kill? Where did this bloodshed begin?
Where will it end?
Not on this battlefield, nor will
it end on the one miles from here.
Not even on the fields that’ve stood still for a millennia.
When will it end?