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Autumn Leaves
volume 6 number 7
Autumn Leaves volume 6 number 7 |
There's a shadow hanging ... dark across our futures.
It
may presage the twilight of our times.
We can't close the wound with
bandages or sutures,
It's a lesion, open only in our minds.
The Four Horsemen wait impatiently to ride
And the
darkness presses closer all around.
Testosterone-crazed, the madmen hit
their stride
As corpses rapidly pile mound to mound.
It's the age-old story, come again—
Old men sit home
and send the young to die.
Most religions say don't kill, as that's a
sin:
But "We can win" becomes the battlecry.
Wars come, fueled by demagogues and hate,
Before each
storm, though, comes the pause,
The final chance to stop 'ere it's too
late.
If our cause is right—what IS the cause?
Survivors write the histories you see,
And seldom give a
thought to those now gone.
We think no one's of more value than are
we,
Yet our boys may march to meet their final dawn.
