The greatest gift men-as-gods could give,
Fleeting as it may be,
Is simpliciter pax:
A flick of the wrist,
Erases the hardship from history,
Penning a declaration of oblivion,
For the betterment of tomorrow –
We will forget our past.
But peace is hard,
And war cheap.
So we’ll manufacture a world,
Where peace has no place,
Because it’s just good business.
It’s easier to rally against than facing,
Of turning inward to see a naked self,
Free from excuse,
Staring back, mistaken:
“I didn’t know until I knew.”
This seditious soil,
Reeking of sulfur burns,
Burns, burns the nostrils,
The landscape of sorrow, begging,
Through broken and craggy surface,
And so we shall,
By heaven-sent request:
Erasure is in order.
How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d