Sunday, April 29, 2012

The Oracle

The tent by the tree,
Did hold a lot of truth,
The crystal ball dictates,
And puppets we follow.

'You will kill your brother',
She screamed in her trance,
But only anger did I pay her,
And running I came out,

Out of the tent by the tree.

'She's a lunatic', my brother yapped,
'Don't be afraid', he consoled.

Then came the great war, 
The curse of human kind,
Blood knew no bound, 
As families were ripped apart.

To the army we were led,
Me and my brother, in arms we walked
Until a land mine took us apart, 
He died, or so I did think.

My brother was gone.

And despair got hold of me,
And army did I join to avenge.

The war was bloody,
Both sides loosing good,
Millions die everyday, but no peace,
Millions die, by my hand, no peace to me.

Brothers do fight against each other,
And for blood they yearn,
But for the hypocrite world, I lost my brother,
Or so I did think, until I pulled the trigger.

The day was rainy, dark and cloudy.

And as I dashed to claim my kill,
My eyes, met the man who lay beyond the ridge.

My Brother.