Painted upon a tragic canvas
It was a tapestry revealing
Epic disasters
Brought upon ourselves
Burning as shadows
Left in nuclear catastrophes
In a split second they were gone
But the essence of their being
Left behind
The casualties of a contest
A war between races
With two sides
Both resorted to war
Without clemency or mercy
Who decides the choices
When madness reigns
Peace was for them unworthy
The inferno unleashed
Destroying lives
Without prejudice
While some celebrated
Others despaired
Nemesis versus nemesis
Instead of learning from the mistakes of the past
Humanity adopted what they call
Technical progress
And prepared to take further steps
With weapons of last resort
The future path is one of moral regression
Ask yourself and weep
What is war but murder
With official sanction
We've entered a place
At last, at last
Of having no sanctum
Every human is a target
That invites violence
From every corner
We have only to mourn
Only to be shattered
Only to respond to orders
It is set aside for the future
We haven't a single reason
To understand why it is wrong
This has gone on so long
We've committed epic treason
“We are the centuries... We have your eoliths and your mesoliths and your neoliths. We have your Babylons and your Pompeiis, your Caesars and your chromium-plated (vital-ingredient impregnated) artifacts. We have your bloody hatchets and your Hiroshimas. We march in spite of Hell, we do – Atrophy, Entropy, and Proteus vulgaris, telling bawdy jokes about a farm girl name of Eve and a traveling salesman called Lucifer. We bury your dead and their reputations. We bury you. We are the centuries. Be born then, gasp wind, screech at the surgeon’s slap, seek manhood, taste a little godhood, feel pain, give birth, struggle a little while, succumb: (Dying, leave quietly by the rear exit, please.) Generation, regeneration, again, again, as in a ritual, with blood-stained vestments and nail-torn hands, children of Merlin, chasing a gleam. Children, too, of Eve, forever building Edens – and kicking them apart in berserk fury because somehow it isn’t the same. (AGH! AGH! AGH! – an idiot screams his mindless anguish amid the rubble. But quickly! let it be inundated by the choir, chanting Alleluias at ninety decibels.)”
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