The Cycle of Grain

As I sit in this field of yellowed grass
In broken mail of rusted brass
I see the most unearthly flash

The messenger of pain

From this flash came death, scythe in hand
To do his job, so in demand
In this field of war, the folly of man

A thousand warriors slain

The culmination of the stupidity displayed
In insults hurled across both ways
That fell on and on for many days

A storm of acid rain

But now the deeds irrevocably done
And bodies lie in the setting sun
The battle, by neither side won

It’s ironic, now warriors feed the grain

But the cycle shall come around again
New warriors with swords and flesh to rend
With homes and sacred laws to defend

And the food they eat...
is grain

~TLB