TOMORROW
Armageddon’s armies are gathering on the side of each lighted shore shouting, 'Peace’ in grave desperation waiting feverish the moment of war Bright visions of splitting the atom and tossing a man to the moon intersperse with knowledge of hatred and unsleeping nightmares of doom perfecting devices of nations unseeing their brother's raw pain awarding metallic citations they brood over coveted gain Is there no pathway to follow than grey war, bloated diseased? Do we have no other volition to choose cool green moments of peace? Still seems the moment's surrounding as soft as the hurricane's eye and they call as lively as children in the seconds before we all die.
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AuthorOpaline Marks is the pen name of Opal Markiewicz, a writer of novels, short stories and nonfiction essays. Archives
September 2006
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