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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,


the look of lions

until silence


over smoky cities

and rusty fields

and easy creatures


from hidden thickets

softly chirruping.

- by Lyman Ditson


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