The blackest night will fall
when my eyes become so blind that I cannot see the blood shed in the
name of red, white, and blue.
The balance of time slowly
drifts away, the slow decay of my worst memory lives on in the skin, the
soul created only to think and not to kill.
Beyond my will, I know the
eyes of each peace sign prevailer will come to conquer ill-thought
ideas; and declare this world fit for freedom.
We’ll know we’ve done our
damage to "beloved" mother Earth when it’s shined as a pane of glass…
the lost bells of Sunday mass will no longer ring.
Won’t you bring this world
once last favor – the sparing of it’s own breath – the saving of it’s
own family – the consideration of your own immoral soul?
Only then will this red,
white and blue over-ruler be thrown to the side, only when pained glass
can be broken, and broken souls can begin to rebuild a life so cruelly
stolen.
