No duty calls,
To perpetuate an influx...
Of destruction released.
No power held that proclaims,
Itself to be of faithful deeds...
Treats to delight the rising of conflicts,
As a reason to declare...
The certainty of victory.
No one with a responsible consciousness,
Allows insecurities to persist...
To feed upon a selfishness,
With delicious expectations.
To 'then' profess regrets...
That a diminishing integrity,
Leaves them with nothing left...
But a preparation that accepts the worst of times.
Since,
It is in their minds...
The best of times that could be lived,
Has not risen on their priority list...
That still feeds a greeding need,
To experience peace...
After they have been fed their lust for battle.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem