naive marten
*A world without war;
A fantasy so far.
One in which fire does not rain
Bringing death, destruction, and pain.
One in which a child does not,
Lose his life, all for naught.
One in which a maid need not weep
For her love, who has fallen asleep.
In which the river flows not burgundy
But brims with opal life, in perfect continuity.
The dove flies high on clouds of fleece
Carrying an olive branch of peace
Onwards to paradise, to which it holds keys.
The world had, its beacon of hope, lost
That very hope, the wicked had into fire tossed
For the sake of futile fights
Their fragile ego, and non-existant might
For which they condemned the innocent
To hell on earth, so omnipresent.
But their suffering has come to an end
And to them joy, the heavens have lent.
Now they toil to build Elysium
And subdue Ares and his brutal realm
To enact their rightfully earned revenge
And their dead and destroyed, to avenge.
A world without war;
A fantasy, not too far.
But chains have to be broken,
And pride and hate have to be forsaken.*
-neo
A seeming similarity to my other poem #1446551531577934039 And that is intentional. This poem explores a world which has overcome war, but also contrasts it with ours. Written deviating from my normal style of including Christian theology, instead shifting towards Greek mythology. Modern wars and current political situations have inspired me to write this poem.
Changes made:
Line 1 stanza 2- Changed "High up in the sky" to "On clouds of fleece".
Line 3 stanza 2- Removed "The" before "keys".
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