In a dead baby’s eyes,
    chest no longer heaves, throat no longer cries,
lies, dead, the choices of Humanity;
Individual choice or Social vanity.
And, either way, the way we go
leads us to and leads us fro.

When the last grave is filled;
When the last enemy lies killed;
When the last smoke from the last fire
rises up and up and yet no higher;
When the last tear is worthlessly shed;
When the last lament is sung for the dead;
When the valley of the shadow of death is no longer feared;
When evil and good disappear into the past, bleared;
Then and only then will time beat swords and plows to rust
and leave the stage clear for whomever must
stand triumphant, Adam and Eve, upon the stage
Humanity left in a silent and useless rage.
Lost, we did, the forest for the trees,
blind to what a dead baby sees . . .