It distresses me just how the two of you

want to destroy the other’s image,

when the real enemy of the times

is the gods that founded your existence

and breathed fire in to your tiny souls.

 

You explode with ferocity,

like a thousand Hiroshimas

captured in the dazzling light of

single black and white photograph

on the day that the Sun became insignificant.

 

Yet you have not the wit or the temperament

of grace in which to walk away

from the fallout and put distance

between each other’s demonstrative and

destructive power, you are but toys in mindless hands.

 

There is no chance of peace

breaking out between you

unless you destroy the Gods

to whom your life is clay,

Terracotta Soldiers armed with blank stare.

 

Take up arms against the misconception,

raise the sights on the .22 and breathe,

breathe and let fly of graceless ones,

one God will willingly sacrifice with a smile,

you will need a bomb to take apart the other.

 

Ian D. Hall