Hasn't it raged for long enough, in the history of man?
Haven't enough graves been filled with rotting flesh,
leaving not but bones and ash? Will it end in my time-
or will it continue on; for love, for God, and land? I do-
not know the answer, but place the highest of wagers,
that more blood will wet the sand. Will they weep as it-
spans the globe forever, bodies lain to waste? Will they cheer-
if Damascus falls, for the rise of the Caliphate?
Are we not a peaceful species, capable of lasting calm?
Have we not advanced in time enough, to lay down all our arms?
Or is jockeying for power and position, all that does appeal?
Can we find one who is Stormborn, that will attempt-
to break the wheel? For history is fill with death, far more-
than we can count. And no sign has come to Earth,
that would hope to ease my doubts. But hope remains in bout,
fighting ever long, so ironically, all that I can do is soldier on.
It seems a rueful existence, to think that we'll take to the stars.
Yet, we'll likely carry all our hatreds - greed, and carry on;
as we always have, killing, hating one another. For nothing-
more than property, intolerance, and color. Boggle I do my-
mind, with dreams I may not see. Smile I do at kindness,
and selfless acts I see. Though wrench I do at coldness, at-
endless death for the same religions - of the the broken bodies,
nameless faces, and weary eyes of children.
For these are my horrors.
These are that which brings me sorrow.
So I curse this life and scream,
Shedding tears for what will come,
In all of the tomorrows.
Boggled by Consciousness
Of What, Of Where