these Endless Wars

Dusk, it is calm tonight, but
in the air the smell of war floats
yet, sleeping nature, infinitely sweet,
and in my heart, something sobs.

It looks like the evening is full of caresses,
The flowers go to sleep to dream
of the morning bird Who comes to give
them his tenderness and kisses, the trees
in the garden shiver in the passing wind,
and butterflies which seemed so joyful have
dropped closed their golden wings,
falling to ground, between frail branches
the fearful rising moon turns paler than ever,
uncertain evenings are daily occurences now,
and though hardened my heart flinches
as I pray for those men I love who
are not here but who are over
there, where the war is.

And slowly I feel my failing being,
falling into the middle of the
perfumes of flowers and war, in
my convicted stubbornness I look for what is
no longer there, so despite the
road that continues there is no
road to peace here, even if we
ignore forever the sense of travel
and advancement, in the silence
of my tongue I’m talking to you
about a world where we try to
keep the lamp on, where we’re
always walking, always seeing the
balance between light and darkness
between war and it’s peace, and
though hardened my heart flinches
as I pray for those men I love who
are not here but are over there,
where the war is.

©Ionwhite

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