An Old Soul’s Wisdom

A should write about the waste and wantonness of war, and how we should be beyond that by now. Should be.

 I choose not to dream, but they come anyway
Strange visions of times now long gone
Once more my hands, those of nerveless young warrior
The gun and the knife, blood all around

A momentary glimpse of a long-fled cunning
A mind wrapped in promises, lies from the fools
Focus and move, somehow survive
Force aside all the death, the violence and pain

Soul grown old, journey’s far end
Scared from the jousting, so many a foray
Grown old like so many, running hither, coming hence
Now only the dreams, no more deeds left

Again they feed flames, call might to action
I fear we’ve forgotten what we once had learned
Forgotten that who rules, doth battle not
Forgotten that the deaths, are laid at children’s feet

So when they come round this time, fanning flames, calling war
Stand fast, listen not, just quietly shut the door……

Steve ‘Easy’ Whitacre January 11th, 2008