I read this once,
didn't know what to say.
I read it again,
more understanding.
Third time through,
I wondered.
Is it really all that hopeless,
are we that helpless?
If everyone laid down,
the tools of destruction,
their hatred,
would the world be happy?
Would Shangri-la exist,
as more than the desire,
of the soldier?
A vain daydream at best,
as the killing tool fires,
the killing tool in his hands,
and death flourishes.