War’s natural as death.
We’re dead before we take a breath.
No complaint, let me explain.
For pleasure, we must have pain.
There are opposites for a reason.
Hot and cold, each has a season.
Black and white and wrong and right,
Dark and light and day and night.
Without mentioning any names,
One in charge is playing games.
The way to stay is to go away.
A stage is set, perform the play:
We cannot live, unless we do not.
Oh my, what an intriguing plot!
It keeps us on edges of our seats.
It is on and off, then it repeats.
Mountains are high, valleys deep.
In birth we wake, in death we sleep.
Unconscious, unaware we’re gone,
Death is night, birth is dawn.
No happiness without fear,
Nor laughter without a tear.
There is no love, without hate.
To wonder why, a hopeless fate.
(Published by The Society of Classical Poets Literary Journal, April 1,2018)