For ambition's sake is hewn
The idolatry of conflict
That warfare be of grand ideals
And not of realistic woes
Such grandeur is beset e're
By those who seek strength
To oppress, lest to be suppressed
But warfare is the milieu of youth
That strays afar in passing years
For none who wage its misery
Will keep close its impracticality
Those human resources waning
Give way to plotted soil rich
Fertilized in blood and bones
Their legacy forgotten below
But do not wake too late, too fast
When idle moments bring manifest
The realism of shared hopes, sorrow
That none shall ever triumph then
Those lower beings that slay
They in brutal means do so yet
For it is sustenance sought
That gives them life continual
Still men kill for naught but relief
That fills no hearts, no bellies dear
Not those that merit virtuous plight
But lies and prejudice unbased
Most blasphemous in God's name
For naught shall pass from here
Nor come to pass on its behalf
No hand can keep hold precious prize
Nor win favor by its reverement
So lend an ear to truthful triari
They have known well this valiant beast
And bear its tokens for all to see
But never to bare a skeined spirit
Beyond words of cautious thought
That war is truly hell, hell on earth
Made from conflicting idolatry
That gives no comfort to woeful souls
Remain still in its desolate wake