The recurring disease of mankind.
Before the actual war
There is a mental war.
During a war
There is a heavy mar.
Life is unsettled.
Man is undermined,
Fate is already written.
War is an artless, cadaverous theme.
In quest of avenge
A war is fought.
In quest of peace
A war is defended.
But the streams are still away,
The dales are hidden in volcanoes.
The gales are still at work
The aftermath is a spell bound silence.
War is an aggrandized thought, but a grave-yard.
Peace treaties finally reach dust bins,
Peace is not a signed document.
Peace is a mental state
That is defined beyond our agreement.
Before any war
There are tears.
After the war
The faces are not yet exuberant.
War is a wart, a recurring disease of mankind.
In-between sighs and tears
Can a war bring in peace?
Or restore our poise,
Our lost horizons?
Doesn't war only tear humanity to pieces?
To more divided thoughts?
To the production of refugees
and to a more disintegrating world?
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Comments about this poem (The recurring disease of mankind. by Ravi Panamanna )
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