On the landscape of chronicled time, as we dismember the seams of man’s pride
Knitted together with crimson yarns are deceit and mayhem that history can’t hide
Troys and Kalingas, Hiroshimas and Normandys, Waterloos and Hastings
Endless conquests of man’s conceit, hinged to cold legends of civilizations’ wastings
While a vain machismo revels Imperialism, carnage and annihilation to timeless dimensions
Lingering races pay for the escapades with stony haunting desolations
A guileful game of a few mean men that gambles on the blood of populations
Where’s the glory in war and the martyrdom, it’s a planned slaughter amongst nations
Why a brother, a son and a father has to perish to suit the designs of a few fiends
For ages now, as states rise and fall or make new ones, the soul of forsaken masses undyingly rends
Why patriots born on either side, are bred to believe?
That peace without bloodshed is incredible to achieve
War is made and fought in minds and hearts of men, there’s nothing more manly than war
But doom ensues when this spills over as first blood, on the souls of the lands that spar
In the name of war, can virility ever vindicate the mindless massacre of humanity?
Or as history swears, there will be no end to this inherited profound masculine insanity.
As a purpose is so rarely sought, a slender pretext is ample to start yet another hostility
May the Almighty instill the long-lost child in man he left behind in antiquity
© 2015 Vikas Chandra