And A Lion, And A Lamb

This the time of blindness and barbarity,
History awash in numberless pixels,
Pallid lights overtake the greater lights,
Our little greeds nourish titanic powers,
That flatten peoples in their gory axles,
Grinding in plastic wheels all  our charity.
Mars.

Disciples at the feet of the angel of death,
Young warriors burn cold as wintry steel,
Neon incense to gods void of one another,
Ascent to powers that numb a bloody resolve,
Machines kill in collateral and do not feel,
The weight of the taking of the last breath.

Like the wheel of Samsara, endless returns,
On this investment in the coffers of war,
Children yet born, groomed for sacrifice,
Tomorrow,  Karma will forge new enemies,
The kin of the killed, for honor and for lore,
The fuel for  revenge that endlessly burns.
Hades.

Where the voice crying in this wilderness?
Who the prophet stepping into the crossfire?
Whose the last blood, whose the last body?
Whence the cup of peace, the broken bread?
Of the digging of graves, each of us does tire!
And praying as kneeling in blood we distress.
Lament.

And a Lion roars o'er the noise of battles,
And a lamb accepts the wounds we inflict,
And a hush blows over the killing fields,
And a longing for the first blossoms.
Amen.