“’Tis not to be, the swinging tree,” or so The Silence said.
“If only the winds of change would be, the future we would not dread.”
“The bombs of war, we’ve heard before,” said The Noise with resignation.
“Their crumps and drones, the scatter of bones, sacrifices of a nation.”
“For what is done, the blast of gun,” The Silence did remark.
“The damage wrought, the battle fought, the aftermath is stark.”
“Will we emerge, from the dirge?” asked The Noise with yearning.
“Our lives to live, our souls to give, all while the Earth is turning?”
“We fear the future with good reason,” and then The Silence sighed.
“With hate allowed, truth disavowed, ‘tis justice we do misguide.”