A thickening of souls,

a gathering of lies,

another missile developed,

 another child dies.

Ill gotten gains,

 usher in a silent black rain,

That leaves the poor,

and forgotten to suffer the pain.

Tell me now….

Have you ever seen the tepid steam

 on a hostile jungle rise?

And smelled of its decaying stench

 as the sky thickens with flies?

Tell me now…

Have you ever heard,

a dying mans last words,

As he without limbs slowly dies?

Tell me now, can you still hear his cries?

Oh yes, another missile developed

 and another gathering of lies,

Brings forth still, a multitude of cries,

 as an unholy rain, falls from the sky.

Tell me now….

Shall we never learn,

 that it is not by force,

but from peace you earn.

Will not we ever see,

 That it is through life,

And not death,

That one achieves victory.

Tell me now….

J. Allen Wilson © 2004