There is so much colour in black and white
In dancing shadows with shade at night
In fire shouting at woods that burn
In sounds of battles that come from the horn.
There is so much silence in how the tide sings
How it woos the shore and clings
To the embrace of stray children
Running away from pain
There is a solemn motion in still pictures
And how an unmoved piece structures
the earth in many ways into submission
Even when our picture is not a perfect solution.
There is a Hunter of the vile
Who soon becomes prey to the file
Of slaves staggering to the plough
Of questions like “why should I Bow”?
There are so much lies
Beneath the skies
Especially when we try to purchase peace
With violence as a decorated fleece.
There is a limit to how long this poem goes
A limit to how far it shows
But one thing is true among the lies we tell
There is a Heaven and then a hell