Man

It is not enough for man
To understand and, in that knowledge,
Begin to comprehend
The dangers of blind courage.
It must be through our advocating
Of love and the loving of life
That we find the true meaning
As to why the blunt stone sharpens knife.
 
Behind grim masks they masquerade
And in that ball, there is no music
Save the monstrous rattle from bombs they made
That blow blood upon the nurse’s tunic.
And through the pool of shining red
The women tend with care to men
Who in their dying, lay with dead
Who failed to comprehend.
 
It is not in our own interest
To see the flame before the smoke.
Yet with sparks and witless interest
We jester light to joke.
The embers whistle and spit
Upon the face of curious men
Who never know the time to quit
And stay there until the end.
 
When the fire burns the flesh
The scorn of man will know its folly.
And when the logs and twiglets relish
The gentle blow of melancholy
That comes from standing true
The ash will dance upon the grave
Of young men who never knew
The way the coward conned the brave.
 
And that is when we will win.
When death streams closer, nearer
Like the dark doom beneath protruding fin
That bleeds the water clearer.
For we begin only when we end.
That is the power grab of mortality,
The lose strings and the empty friend
Who never understood morality.