Warheads bloom in the Middle East To the relentless April yet so deceased. Primeval lands weep for fresh, young flood shed And poured unto the altars of terror hell-wed. Retaliations are merchants' frenzy, international trade Only to gain children's sooty faces and they never awake. "Why the wheel of millennia proceeds But human spiritual civilization recedes To ages of brutality and self-righteous greed?” Such is a riddle so obscure yet so true indeed And so puzzled is the Sphinx even prone to misread. By the Persian Gulf hymns an old, silent bard No one ever sees but folks all long to read and feel His heavenly poetry for souls that shall not be scarred And for a Bethlehem where wounds shall soon all heal. --

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