Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The symbol Of A New Life
The smell of blood was pungent,
And bodies lay motionless around me,
Screams and pleads deafening me,
As war erupts,
Annihilating everything on its path.
Is this how it’ll ends,
Fear, rage, vengeance and hatred,
Burning mankind into nothing but ashes.
Tear slide down my stained cheeks,
I stand there in the heart of my birthplace,
Staring at the eyes of death itself,
And watching as buildings lay in ruins.
There’s nothing left,
Of what has once been hope,
Replaced by grief and despair.
But then I saw it,
A butterfly so serene,
Flying through the remnants,
Looking for a flower,
As I doubt that it will ever find one in a place as such.
Even so the butterfly never once daunted,
It keeps on looking, and looking and looking,
And it even came up to me,
As it tried landing on my face.
I laughed at its persistency,
But in the middle of nothing,
Was a little flower among the dirt,
The symbol of a new life.
Now I know that hope never dies,
With everything that we endure,
It will either bring you down,
Or build you stronger than before.
I believe that it will all end,
For war can never overcome peace,
For it is after all the nature of life,
One day peace will be blessed upon us,
And that day shall be the day of our independence.