A Dreadful Peace

The blackened landscape tells the tragic tale;
No leaf, no flower remains, no beast, no bird,
The only sound the poisoned wind’s low wail,
Across the land, no human voice is heard.

What monstrous force could thus plunge Earth in fire?
Could men not rise above their ancient hate.
Suppress their pride, control their fatal ire,
Could they not be the masters of their fate?

But no, the dice were thrown, the game begun,
The missiles launched, the planes sent on their way,
And Armageddon blotted out the sun
As billions perished on that fateful day.

And now the aftermath: no hate, no war;
It is the peace of death. Man is no more.