Vanish Poet II

Walking through the narrow lanes of the wartown

I realised it was not the same old place

Where I grew up, with love and happiness.

This was tough, but I pressed on,

Sometimes looking amongst the ruins

Often recognising familiar faces covered in blood.

The air smelled of blood and burned flesh

Nauseating me, but I moved on,

Not wanting to leave them alone.

I looked and looked, everywhere

Not one was left alive.

My mourning did echo loud

But no one seemed to care

I wish there was something at all

I could do to bring them back

To vanish the miseries of the war

And bring back happiness.

The havocs caused by war are huge

And little is gained

Like spending money and lives

In exchange for grief

What would I not give away

In exchange for their lives!

To love and be loved by all

I want them back again.

I wish the Creator – the poet of the world

Would vanish these happenings

And bring back what I've lost for now

In exchange of anything.

For if he was meant to create

Why destroy the good?

Why not destroy misery

And disaster and havoc?

Oh Conjurer poet, answer my prayers

Why not act as such?

Why not become a vanish poet,

And be loved and served by all?

Why not vanish the miseries

And all injustice

To preserve the joy and justice

Which was made to protect?

With this prayer to the one above

I turn my back on them

And without a backward glance

I move on, away from them

Carrying only the memories of

Those good old days when

We all shared love and happiness

And created a heaven on earth.