If Only

Themselves they waged war against Placing a rift between themselves Their fingers they consider as meat To see their blood is their life's love. Apart themselves they tore Assuming positions so parallel Amongst themselves they war Out themselves they are determined to level. They war on the trail The trail of the line The line that stood between them And introduce the language 'mine'. Larger than them is its stem The flame they ignited soon overwhelmed them It burned and burned They stood pruned, consumed. Their bud blossom Into flowers they grow They try to poison the xylem So the tracks by action they shall never blow... ...If only we can wave them aside And beside them bury their hatred's seed We shall no longer suffer for what we know not And rife we'll stamp out.