The Thing About History

The rain falls as the angels cry
for heaven is being torn asunder,
and lighting flashes cross the sky
its passage marked by peals of thunder.

For angels are at war with angels
in parallel to the wars far below
as man turns on his fellow man
and childhood friend turns to foe.

And there's a child with gun in hand
he's playing at the same game of war.
His innonance a coin poorly spent
a life to be wasted nothing more.

And in the ground beneath his feet
his friends lie in heavenly slumber,
called to the father before their time
their silence even louder than the thunder.

And though its all been done before
it seems there's still lessons to learn,
and so history is bound to repeat itself
again, and again, and again.

Yes history is bound to repeat itself again.

Copyright © Barry Smyth, all rights reserved