We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth.
And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms
When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of
hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer take our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
2006-09-18
20:58:20
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10 answers
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asked by
Desert Sienna
4
in
Books & Authors