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The War for War for Peace

Outside of the world we know, in a place as old as time,
Lies a land widely unseen, far away but close to the mind.
Resting on a mountain top tall enough to rip the skies,
Lives a sage of infinite sight but blindness in both of his eyes.
He exists without time or age, and with very few things to do,
He remains upon the mountain top only to ponder what is true.
His mind drifts ever onward as many seek him far and wide,
They climb upon the mountain top, yearning to sit at his side.
Questions they ask and answers they seek, but most soon turn away,
For when you’re old and all alone, people seldom know what you say.
Many stories, questions, and lives has this timeless sage seen,
Most of which he forgets and many fade into dreams.

One bright day a young man came, no older than 22,
He sat upon the mountain top seeking what is true.
“I’m lost, I’m confused, I’m angered by everything that I see!
Legions of war-torn masses insisting that they’re not free.
I see abuse, torment, and wars plaguing lands near and far,
I see hordes of angry people picking at bloodied scars.
The world is troubled, there’s no doubt with all the pain that I see,
But what can I do? What can I say? I’m so small and I’m just me.
Help me oh ancient wise one, help all the wars to cease.
What is it that I can do to bring about world peace?”
As the young man finished his sayings, the silence became quite dense,
For hours they sat, no words exchanged, time was the only expense.
Before the sun went down that day, the old sage began to speak,
He looked to sky with a light hearted sigh as a smile pushed back his cheeks.
“Go forth my son into the world and work through and through,
As your trials grow, rest assured to know, that peace will soon come to you.”

On the very same ancient mountain, on a very different day,
Walked a man with a tired old face and a black beard speckled with grey.
Behind weary veiled eyes nestled light begging to be free.
With a small choke, to the sage the man spoke: “I’ve never known what I should be.
I’ve worked my whole life, I’ve done all I can, I’ve never stopped to rest,
The battle rages onward; leading me through this infinite jest.
Many places I’ve been, and many faces seen, but I’m no closer to what I seek.
The more people I know, the more places I go, it’s clear that humans are weak.
I’ve helped a few, worked through and through, and seen many waxing strong.
But ever so plain, all soon came to wane to same cacophonous song:
Disaster, destruction, delirium; promises without cares.
I’ve looked all around for answers, they may exist but I know not where.
Help me oh ancient wise one, help all the wars to cease.
What is it that I can do to bring the world some peace?”
As quiet as ever, the hours ticked by until the man was soon lost to sleep
In the slumber of a weary soul drowning in questions too deep.
The sage waiting as always for the opportune moment speak,
Awoke the man from his madness when it had made him sufficiently weak.
“Your desires are pure and righteous, but who’s to say that they’re right?
You seem too sure, that the only cure, is to end the wars with a fight.”

Upon the mountain of fleeting answers where sat the pondering sage,
Crept a frail and weathered fellow of a tender ripe old age.
Without a sound, upon the ground, the two men sat for days,
No words, or looks, or questions, only warmth from the sunny rays.
Lost in his mind, the man grasped at wispy distance thoughts,
He had long since thrown in the towel and abandoning his righteous plots.
Between an endless raging battle and the blissful life of the blind,
The man now chose the latter and put the world forever from his mind.
For the first time in an eon, the sage was the first to speak,
“The greatest works of all are both painted bright and bleak.
The nature of the soul, you can’t control, all must change on their own,
Take it from me, it’s plain to see, though defeated, you have grown.
Trials bring humility, allowing wisdom to increase;
May you take bliss, for the answer is this: you decide if the world is at peace.”

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1 Comments


Paulo Miro
03/02/15

Jake, I wish had a more to say about this piece but all I can really say is that I got the feeling that the person narrating is a type A person.

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