The Dogs of War

The dogs of war they still run wild;
death’s stench from corpses neatly piled.
There is no peace that can be won
from battles fought ‘neath distant sun.
No setting sun or break of day
will keep the dogs of war away.
True peace comes from in the heart
where war and death can never start.
For though love will never win a war
’twill lead men to say “No, never more.”
‘Tis hands of men that draw the blade
and kill again, as greed has bade.
perhaps if men put up their sword
rejecting Mammon as their lord
then peace could spread across the land;
for peace is what all true gods planned.
‘Tis demon’s wispers in the ear
that lead us into lives of fear
where the only answer that can be
leads to the pain that we now see.
Where fear is free to lead the way
we will never know a peaceful day.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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