The horizon bleeds a bruised twilight hue,
Where once the dawn in gentle colors grew.
A stillness hangs, a pregnant, heavy pause,
Before the rending of all natural laws.
The air, once sweet with blossom’s tender grace,
Now carries scents of ruin and disgrace.
A distant tremor, then a rising roar,
As iron beasts their deadly cargo pour.
The fragile earth, beneath their brutal tread,
Awakens screaming, littered with the dead.
Young faces, etched with terror and with grime,
Are swept away by the relentless time.
The dreams they held, of futures bright and bold,
Lie shattered now, in stories left untold.
A lover’s touch, a parent’s gentle hand,
Replaced by loss they cannot understand.
The vibrant hues of life are washed away,
To monochrome of suffering and decay.
The hollow echo of a falling shell,
A whispered name, a last and faint farewell.
The landscape scarred, a testament to hate,
Where brother turns on brother, sealed by fate.
And in the silence that descends at last,
A haunting memory of what has passed.
The seeds of anger, sown in fields of pain,
May sprout anew, and start the cycle again.
Unless we learn, from ashes cold and deep,
The precious value of the lives we keep.
To choose compassion over bitter strife,
And cultivate the fragile flower of life.