Saturday, June 2, 2012

Playing into Your Hands

Flame amid matches on a glorious
Summer day, in June, yes; nefarious
In nature, gifted in ruin. Yet like
A wise and caring sage, a soldier's friend
Amongst the carnage of a battle dike
Where bodies do fall and crumple, their end
Like a paper doll's in the hand of kids
That know not the fragility that's hid
Within the image of love made present.
Some present scheme keeps me safe: like peasants
Who bid for freedom making a hell,
Causing chaos; I did not desire
Such a purpose in your hands, such fire.
And the consequences I cannot tell...

                   Playing into Your Hands, (c) Luke Bennette, May 2012

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