Coreyoria World Tour

Today I read in the newspaper a quote that touched upon a sentiment I've been feeling. And while it wasn't exactly what I wanted to say, it came very close to coindciding with my thoughts: When will people "stop getting 'pride' from fighting and start getting it from constructing a society that others would envy, an economy that others would respect, and inventions and medical breakthroughs from which others would benefit?" Lately I've been pondering an intangible void created by the loss of human capital and its potential to create good when it is preoccupied and wasted in the tragedy of war. So after I read the article with this quote in the International Herald, I took a nap because I had a hard work day. But I woke up to write this poem. It's not an anti-war statement because I want to believe that no one is "pro-war," and I understand that everyone has their justifications and rationale for war, but this is rather just contemplation on what we don't achieve by so many people being wound up in all aspects of it, on all sides - how it preoccupies our minds and eliminates the possibility for people to think and do other positive things. I hope this isn't cheesy. I'm not trying to be political per se, just express what I've been thinking about ... how war pervaded my thoughts.


My Thoughts on War
What a waste of potential.
A waste of human capital.
Of infinite opportunity and possibility.
For hundreds, thousands, thousands of brains
To work toward something good instead of evil.
To grow intellectually toward the betterment of society,
Creating ideas that would
Mulitply, grow, divide, and bring more meaning
To a world where many things lack just that.
What a waste of life, of time.
Where the ends meet the means
Around a locus of destruction.
Nullifying a population's, many populations',
Ability to contribute toward
Progress and modernity.
What a tragic, tragic waste of energy.
What a sinking feeling I feel
To recognize what could have been,
What might have been,
With a different focus, a different lens.
Ideas and inventions have vanished
With the smoke of a firing gun
And with another bomb dropped.
With each life lost or consumed,
The world will never know what it's missing.
And for what?
Only to spawn the dispair,
Distrust, heartache, and hate
That will cause new generations
To pick up their weapons,
Eliminating yet more potential
For peace and understanding
In our war-torn world.

This entry was posted on 30 July 2006 at 12:19. You can skip to the end and leave a response.