Blessed by the Grim Reaper,
Wars' harvest soul keeper,
Time and again he returns,
Yet, mankind never learns. 

Left behind destruction's rain,
Broken spirits' foolish gain,
Accompanied by widows' wails,
Certain result when reason fails. 

Sown by prejudice and fear,
Ghosts of war always near,
War without doubt Satan's friend,
In time perhaps mankind's end. 

In wars' wake a cold wind blows,
A numbing chill pain knows,
Pestilence on dark wing bore,
Peace an illusion forever more.
 

S.L. Keck
5/31/99