Tomorrow is the near future.

I live near a stream that has been running dry for years
there used to be a winter lake too, now drained
as a landing pad for military helicopters
trees around get dusty like tired soldiers on the western front.
There is edginess in Europa, many years of peace the monster,
that lurks in mankind awakes.
We think we know the enemy, as usual, we are wrong
when listening to the voice of antagonism.
A new page of history written we don’t know which
side to choose, when millions of people killed
and the last bomb dropped, then it doesn’t matter which
sides we choose.
Poets will write for peace; few will listen to their warnings.
The new peace can last, but only so long, because the human mind
is bent on war; this is our tragedy the voice for peace is a child cry
in the symphony of the battlefield.