A Tragedy Called War

Somewhere in time, a poem is written about the meaning of war.

Known to both Gods and Men 

Were the methods of war,

the details of torture

and the schemes of Death.

Inherent to them all,

fictitious, unreal,

or simply too surreal,

were the feelings

and saccharine notions

of challenge for peace.

Unbeknownst to all was

the underlying truth connecting all life.

Amidst the interpretations

and unending complications 

the facts of life and universe 

stood ignored and rotting in the corner.

After countless battles and frightful terrors

only Death recognized the superior reality 

ruling the world and master of everything.

Entropy.

No Man or God stood a chance

against its grasp of time

and decay of matter, 

and all of them fell to its 

unquestionable power.

Death spoke not of Entropy,

for it was only an agent,

a soldier fighting a conflict 

as a puppet, not with freedom.

It was as much an individual 

as it was an idea, but one with impact

and zealous execution.

Alas, I digress. 

My humble narration derives away

from the mortal world

towards the kingdom of imagination,

and such is not necessary.

The only need for my proclamation 

is merely a plea to end decimation. 

A thoughtful wish of an elder man 

who only desires to see children

rise without ever needing to fall.

Author's Note

Just a random poem about a random thought. I realize it isn't that great.

Reviews

[Zyle Christian William ..]

there are so many little gem phrases in this piece that I couldn't begin to list them all in a comment! John, as always you blow my mind with your writing style, your topics and the vastness of the ideas you conjure and focus on while writing,. I am in awe of you. Thank you for sharing.

[John C. Chill]

I am thankful Zyle. Unfortunately I am unable to come here as I desired and so I cannot catch up to anything at all. I can't even write... These are mad times, my friend. Mad times indeed.

[Zyle Christian William Cook]

I wish you the best in overcoming these times and am here if you need to talk.

[Misphit]

We are always our own worst critic and although you may feel this write isn't that great, I respectfully disagree. There is nothing more entertaining than a chaotic storm in one's mind that is penned in a manner that allows your audience a glimpse into beautiful randomness.
Many write poems that are predictable and familiar to basic human emotions. I prefer to read a piece that allows me the freedom to absorb your words and let them steep until an image finds me.
I appreciate you allowing me an escape from the daily grind and into a manic daydream.
Bravo my Sweet!

[John C. Chill]

Thank you for your kind words. I didn't feel very confident about the poem but now I feel a little bit more secure about its quality.
I'm sincerely thankful :)

[Misphit]

Keep writing my sweet!! I look forward to more