_<Неизбежная правда>_
The world goes round and round about its axis,
While lives were emptied,
Round by round.
-
Incandescent fires from the heavens,
Annihilating all in a spew of flames and poison.
Constructs of fire and metal razes,
Crushing all beneath and firing deadly projectiles.
Inhuman silhouettes weaving in and out of the shadows,
Slaughtering their own without thought.
-
What is this?
This is war
By humans.
-
War leaves behind
The carcasses of civilians and children,
With the corpses of pawns.
Destroyed artifacts,
Monuments demolished,
Cities dead.
-
A trail of sorrows
In a blasted wasteland,
From which brews and boils more hatred and venomous thoughts,
With justice and vengeance in mind,
They set out for a holy crusade,
And thus it will begin,
All again.
-
People blame war for the suffering present.
Some blames politicians.
Some blames nations.
Some blames entire races.
Some blames ideologies.
Some blames the world, and some
Even blames the Gods above.
-
The truth,
The universal truth behind the pain and suffering,
Which all knew but dare not acknowledge,
Is us.
-
Purely,
Us.
Humans.
-
Our natures are animalistic,
Survival and comfort the only thought.
For the sakes of self we squabble,
And thus the squabble becomes a quarrel,
Quarrels will spawn hostility.
Hostility breeds hatred.
Hatred evolves into madness.
And clouded by the crimson mist,
Insanity materializes
Into war.
-
We are the root of all evil.
We are the cause of suffering and pain.
But if we not exist,
Will these be known?
Be written of?
Exist?
-
Even our existence is an imperfection,
A mar on the perfect beauty of Nature.
We are ultimately
A paradox,
Of which even Gods could not solve.
By Sergei Tchaikovosky
~ http://pissantellius.mestisomose.org/poetry/usersubmission1987.html
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