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Tossed about in a blue-gray sea
A burning flag torn
by opulences greedy hands
preying on the weak
and myopic ones in a land apart
the ones that obliterated their
timelines forever for an iron horse
and a few extra skulls with which
to build thier thrones.
But I digress; such notions are for another time
as we have come to the matter at hand;
the matter of the inevitable and the constant,
brought to bear by those meant to
confront the dangers of this turbulent universe
together, hand in hand; brothers in arms.
As we gaze at the portrait of these two,
we may learn nothing, but we are told everything.
One, crying with hushed screams for
the freedoms he so cleverly denies those
he believes lesser for their missteps
in the never distant enough past.
Dark red blood sullies his death-pale hands,
blood form the re-opened wounds of the sire
of a wayward child who made the mistake
of wishing to know the world beyond
the dying sun and verdant fields
where he spends his sullen days
and dreams away his lonely nights.
Such barbaric behavior beckons
the righteous ire of his compatriot,
the one who helped build the
world in which they live, all
while searching for another people to destroy.
While perhaps a bit more refined and
resolute in his calls for justice,
this fellow is no saint to sinners.
His hand has been forced, making
him a second coming of Cain,
although this time his pleas for
an accepted offering were taken
by the savior that adorns his walls
with grace and poise.
So what was it that tore these two apart?
Was it scorn? Hate? Mistrust?
What was it that whispered so
quietly in their ears to place their
hands about the others' throat?
Surely their father weep with
newly rent hearts, as their
renegade offspring find nothing
better than to kill one another
over a squabble on how to grow.
Will the fallen rise again?
