Wars are waged all around,
People falling with wounds seen and unseen.
Ships battle raging seas never to dock on foreign shores;
Men sick from months adrift stare in horror,
A captain orders the cannons loaded,
and the world goes up in flames with their goal just out of reach.
Warriors ride their steeds to the end of their lives,
Eager to join the battle for fame and glory;
Their passing oft announced by the shouts of the criers,
and the keening of the widows left behind.
Boys, not even nearly men, march onward;
They scurry in a frantic haste to attend futile duties,
Only to face an abrupt end to their service,
Innocence lost at the point of a sword it once wished to master.
Orphans roam the streets in droves,
With vacant eyes and hands extended for so much as a shred of kindness;
There is no one left to care for their lot,
Even as cities burn down around their huddled forms.
And yet, throughout the ages, we seem unable to stop ourselves,
War is in our nature, and we long to perfect ho