Plato Was Right

Last night
I dreamed of war.
The choppers buzzed
like mad whirring insects,
the napalm exploded
like hell's own fire,
the wounded screamed
like tortured babies,
the dying begged me
to tell them why
and I couldn't
because there is
no why in war,
no moral, no reason.
Waking, I dream
of dreams of peace
that will never arrive.
Only the dead
know the end of war.
 - mce