Weavers

Tangled webs the weavers wove, 
difficult to unthread. 
Til one by one 
the knots undone 
and the meaning could be read. 
Sprinkled dew had obscured 
what many thought was true, 
but as it laid out to dry 
everything soon came through. 
Clear as notes in a single chord 
and diamonds glittering on a lake, 
I found something rather hidden 
and it was ripe with hate. 
Now the surface gloss wiped away 
the stains beneath revealed. 
Peace cannot be achieved 
when war wounds are forbidden to heal. 
So sound your horns of firey battle 
into my deafened ears. 
I will not heed the cry to arms 
unless we're throwing flowers.