A man sits pleasantly
In his overstuffed chair.
Happily he stares out the window,
At the peaceful world out there.
I see it too.
Like all the rest of you.
But I also see something more.
I see the fabric of War.
The tapestry of nature;
Love, Hope, Faith, sure.
But I see through to the other side,
Those things to which those three are blind.
Engaged against a cunning foe,
Who employs the joyful and much more.
He sits and lurks among the leaves,
Watching, waiting, peace to deceive.
Be at peace old man and be there till,
Your Sun goes down and your body lay still.
You’ve escaped the blood you’ve escaped the Valor,
But what will you say when your skin is clay pallor?
White hot seduction screams contentiously by;
Tracers cutting air, in a bloodthirsty line.
Till one of them strikes through my vulnerable thigh.
Then angry, YES, am I!
Who is to blame?
It’s not you, it’s not me.
It’s the fabric of War!
Why, old man,
Can’t you see?
The time of repose is not in this life.
This is the place of blood, death and strife.
I’d rather be wounded, approved and endure;
Living strong in “The Faith of HE who is Sure
But do rest and enjoy the picture you see,
Whether stillness of beauty, or the warring disease.
Do not let your soul be caught shaken my friends.
But fight, oh do fight, to the promised strong End!