The harbinger comes of blackest night
To tell a tale of woe,
Of stars arrayed above our plight
And the paths on which we go.
Not a plague on just two houses
As the great Bard would say,
But a global plague that douses
And darkens our world this day.
Nations on the brink
Who harness fractions of the Sun,
But not a one of the them thinks
To move backwards from the gun.
Sing to me a song of war
And I shall sing thee one of peace,
To brighten our hearts from their very cores
And make our younglings’ wailings cease.
Create a world of unbridled glory,
Make a stand against oblivion’s will,
And make with one voice our story
That we no longer shall be still.
“This world is ours, you wretched blister.
We do not have another,
We embrace each woman as our sister
And each man as our brother.”
Make known our consternation
With all the might inside our hearts,
And as we make our declaration
Our new beginning starts.
A world of fields no longer caked
In blood of soldiers hence,
Of people none forsak’d,
A place that makes some sense.
Cherish the dreams of our children,
Bring their smiles out from the sad,
And together work to give them
A better world than what we had.
So keep the messenger at bay,
And silence the shelling’s thunder,
Before the demons of our ways
Tear our family asunder.