Colin F. Jones


There has never been peace but still we hope,
abhorring war with which we cope,
accepting not the perpetual trend
that is ours to deal with until the end.
And even as I write, I read
of vanity dressed in clothes of greed;
divisional religion and I am I,
despite the fact that I will die.
Yet many writers write of themselves
wherein the pride of conceit dwells,
competing for a place to be
where they already are, but fail to see
that the rhythm of life as was designed,
though history moves by time Defined.