Portents the presence of the rider
The red horse of war is here
As the clouds churn with fire
Visible are the scars of battle
They reveal the cost of acts of war
Armies have fought battles
Across the millennia
War's presence beckons
To the noble, to the low
From the peaceful and to the violent
From rapists and to defenders
Lastly there are romantics
Those souls who love
And to the cynics
Those who love to kill
Acts of heroism inspire
Riots against the order
Chaotic mobs who slaughter
The Red Horse is ready
Waiting to charge
His rider remains calm
Knowing his power
And calls to his brother Mars
Who shakes the ground
Preparing the armies
To fight to the end
To defend a people
Or defend their land
Only to add to the catastrophe
Humans alone create
“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the clouds of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron.”
"When He broke the second seal, I heard the second living creature saying, "Come." And another, a red horse, went out; and to him who sat on it, it was granted to take peace from Earth, and that men would slay one another; and a great sword was given to him." Revelation 6:3–4
