Monday, July 26, 2010

Strypa (A modern anti.war poem)

You sharpen your battle axe
At the back of the cave
You sour old men
Who plan the deaths of others
Because the games they play
Are not the games you like.

But be warned as the tide turns
Your army of one will be left
Standing alone as the wind wears
Away its edges.

Love supreme and unchallenged
Of all it surveys
Master of nothing
Owner of nil
The day will end
And another begin
But love is not diminished
Nor lessened by the chances taken
Or opportunities lost.

(On the occasion of the publication of the Afghan War Diary 2004-2010)

(I wrote the above while listening to this and thinking)

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