Folly.
War when long and drawn out throws its challenge
of thorns to fighters
caught up in sharing foes, folly\'s wounds cry
for finish to rights.
Men start to forget who spilt first blood, who began
the shooting of hate
into guiltless bodies when filled with terror
not of their making.
Rage, no longer understood sees it insane for death
to stain earth endlessly
so brotherhood rises in love-parched hearts
desiring to mend.
When life is read rightly eyes melt in pity and cool
iron once smoking-hot,
teeth chatter no more in fear as hands raise
flags for battle to stop.
Celled in the same grief death readily calls
for opposing despoilers to cease from war.