Such a magnetic mystique conjured here, Odin. Wrath awaits its renewed season and I could actually see the glint of those knife shadows blooming again from the primeval ooze and slime of previous conflicts. Surely that sun looks ashen and aged by the weariness of the relentless cycle of it all. Yes, sadly it seems that we are always a war waiting to happen; each generation forges its knives in the fires of old grievances and lends its blades to new argument. Thank you so much for reposting this: good poetry deserves so much more than one airing!

PS. I have learned that if you don't "rate" your work it won't appear on the Poetry Board listing. I'm not sure whether you have, in this way, chosen not to advise of your postings deliberately, or whether this is, in fact, an inadvertent oversight. To my mind, people are definitely missing out by not seeing your name and work on the Board! :)) xx

This poem makes me think of a poem of mine by the name of "A Cold and Pitiless Wind." I haven't posted it since I have been back at AD. Think I will tomorrow.

Anyway, wars and rumors of war is one passage out of the Bible that has never been truer. We will forever test one another and maybe one day finally destroy all living things on land. Ten million more years pass and something crawls out of the murky, poisoned ocean and the creation begins again.