Seriously.
I see the moon in the night sky, the full moon illuminating secret quicksilver cloudscapes, night secrets being passed from god to god.
And I can't help but think, why? beneath a night sky like this, how is it that soldiers continue to murder each other; continue beneath this beauty, somehow, continue drawing violent fatal blood?
I know i've never been asked to kill,
know i don't know: what's that like. know that being that close to death, you must see it in
a way that i've never before seen it.
this isn't a white flag, the plea of a peacenik; violence, to me, is too interesting to simply be dismissed, ignored as a plausible fit.
This just wells up from my heart pure, a pure question: how is it that brother kills brother beneath the unveiled beauty; i see the full moon in the night sky and am so viscerally moved that my next thought (really) is to wonder how and why?
the viceroy sits, deep in thought. so with the vicar and the viscount.
so with the VIP, and the disabled veteran on skid row.
the vulnerable fear the vicious, and the venom flows.
and the very old man opens his veins, very quiet, alone; is he
a victim or victor as he watches
the vitality go.
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