Where Goodwill Died Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A leader walks, with heavy stride,
No peace he builds, no common tide.
His helper near, a warlike guide,
No hope they sow, where seeds have died.

They forge the fires, of hate and strife,
Tearing at the world's sweet life.
A grand land bows, beneath this knife,
A sight of pain, a tragic wife.

A nation pushed, in cruelest way,
Like clumsy beast, to its dismay.
No grace it finds, no brighter day,
Just scornful looks, and turned away.

From distant shores, to nearby seas,
Chaos spreads, on every breeze.
Diplomacy falters, finds no ease,
A tangled web, that none can appease.

Old friends are scorned, their trust undone,
From east to west, beneath the sun.
No steady hand, for everyone,
A global game, poorly won.

Humanity's touch, now set aside,
No understanding, no gentle guide.
A power fades, where goodwill died,
Lost connections, deep and wide.

A running mate, with busy hand,
Interferes in foreign land.
It turns to dust, the shifting sand,
And pushes out, a failing band.

The people watch, with weary eye,
For change to come, beneath the sky.
To cast away, the reasons why,
And let a better leader fly.

For this great nation, strong and true,
Deserves a spirit, fresh and new.
To mend the world, and see it through,
With honest purpose, and actions due.

No honor left, for those who stray,
But faith remains, for a brighter day.
When fairness reigns, and leads the way,
And goodness shines, in its own ray.