WEARY WAR-WRON WORRY

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WEEPING WAR-WORN WORRY

As the day bade its circadian farewell, the fleeing sun

Pulled its last glow from weary war-worn trees.

On distant plains, vacant honeycombs no longer buzz

With the songs of industrious bees:-

The thunder of exploding weapons rains down dreaded death

In the midst of innocent crowds,

As swollen moon struggles to peep through striated

Wind-blown smoke and eerie clouds:-

What is it in the psyche of man that

Pushes him to destroy his own kind?

Can’t he see that with war upon war

Humanity will soon run out of time?

“Woe is me” cries out the blood-soaked weary land;

When will peace triumph over this insanity of man?

As the day bade its circadian farewell, the fleeing sun Pulled its last glow from weary war-worn trees. On distant plains, vacant honeycombs no longer buzz With the songs of industrious bees:- The thunder of exploding weapons rains down dreaded death In the midst of innocent crowds, As swollen moon struggles to peep through striated Wind-blown smoke and eerie clouds:- What is it in the psyche of man that Pushes him to destroy his own kind? Can’t he see that with war upon war Humanity will soon run out of time? “Woe is me” cries out the blood-soaked weary land; When will peace triumph over this insanity of man?

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