the hole has opened
and the madness
has seeped up
into the hordes.
from square to square,
the bells of peace
are cursed,
then ignored,
as the kings eye each
other’s death machines
searching for an edge
in hell
and the young dream
of dealing death
with new ways
to maim.
the fires of conquest
have turned inward
and the great cleansing
has begun
as the afflicted
wearing no remorse
would ravage the pure
for being alive,
but they of compassion —
forgiving in secret,
don
the look of lions
until silence
floats
over smoky cities
and rusty fields
and easy creatures
emerge
from hidden thickets
softly chirruping.
- by Lyman Ditson