His hand reached out but was so oft ignored
Distrust of his different views made them wary
But the hatred of others and their vile resolution
Was brutal to see, but for him wouldn’t vary.
Each night he prayed to his Father for guidance
But his future was foretold, he would die
In the savage times then he would die on a cross
But His love and the Message, they can’t crucify.
He sits at the Father’s side now as of right
So appalled at what men do to each other
They fail in that most simple and basic of tenets
That each single man is his brother.
And yet such capacity they have for the gentle
They will love with such beauteous joy
They’ll delight in the love of their children
Yet with bullets and bombs they simply destroy.
They have written great theories about peace and war
Yet still man seems so driven to destruction
The authors of their very own Armageddon
Which approaches from out of their own construction.
These are the thoughts of just one concerned man
Many others have thoughts such as he
If the Father and the Son are as faith dictates
Why do they allow frail humanity to be.
Man is the author of his very own doom
With thoughtless disdain he heads for his tomb
Yet such in itself one could just tolerate
If he didn’t make others all share his sad fate.
And as one may take up his pen for to write
So many more take up arms to join in the fight
And as the blood of innocents spills deepest red
Innocent victims count for most of the dead.
But yet the one with trigger in hand
Would also like to understand
Why he can’t love and be at home
With his wife and children, or reading some tome.
The die gets cast by the hidden ‘others’.
Who can’t accept that we all are brothers.
It will go on — war is not yet done
Man may well yet reach his Armageddon…
©Joe Wilson – Faith – or Armageddon next…2016