Fragile Truce Poem by Robert Charles Howard

Just as a surplus of war begs for armistice,
a season of peace seems to cause
a hostility vacuum that pleads to be filled
as surely as a hollow begs for a pond.

Perhaps there is a cosmic battle raging
between the oversouls of people
who would chisel a sculpture to grace
and those who would hack off its arms.

History's fools fire up their bully horns
shouting proud oratory to ignorance -
and lemmings goose step to the precipice -
doomed to plunge into a sea of misery.

Then there is quiet - guilty and reflective.
How could we let this happen
with so much gain and loss in the balance?

and the sculptors of civilization
find fresh marble to once again
carve reason from the ashes of pride.

But the oversoul of hate will brood and fester
as long as it's thought noble to kill for a cause.

© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard