War in its profound essence
begins not in the battlefield,
but in the dark chambers of human ego.
The self-interest thrives on the illusion of invincibility,
distorts the judgement of historical forces,
designs the destiny of nations
to misshape the configuration of the world.
The selfish egos of war write the story of pride,
seeking a permanent legacy of triumph.
The tragedy lies in their blindness to the primary truth
that all existence is intertwined,
and to harm others is to destroy oneself
when the guns go silent and the dusts settle.
In the irrationality of war their vanity
can’t transcend the narrow limits of egotism.
Sedated by the delusion of greatness
the selfish egos of war seek to embed themselves
upon the enduring world,
but their quest for immortality ironically hastens erasure.
From the look out of a sun stained window
The bottom half of thick misshape clouds
resemble the motionless hilltop tree line
which stands beneath waiting to connect
Cradling mashed regret
from an inverted credence
The mystic pause between
overcast and sapling bleeds.
The strain of caged expression
leaves a trail of mocked kindred
As the sun sets on shush
Heel and toe mark the shadows.
Fear muzzles the sorrow
A dense moisture fills the air
Birds pass by unsettled
to the rumble of thunder.
One apology that is blind to see
Rough voiced with words that mean nothing to tress
And clouds with a space between that seems bottled
with connection breathing, "we can't be".
Maybe I'm just crazy?
Maybe I'm not myself today?
What have I done lately?
Crawled to the moon and back again.
Have you seen me today?
Washed and worn out I'm afraid
What have you done lately?
Looked at me then walked away.
I am just a piece of glass
Lying broken in your hand
What did I do yesterday?
But let your mind misshape me.
Let me breathe
Come make me better
This sad feeling I must shatter
Understanding
Make you realize
I'm down again today.
Maybe I'm just crazy?
Maybe I'm not myself today?
What have I done lately?
Crawled to the moon and back again
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