I am a little late resharing this poem for Armistice Day but lest we forget the dead ones and their loss this is just a little tribute.
Love may be born
Not in a wide open field of flowers
But on blood strewn battle fields
Where red poppies rise from the ashes
Of wounded or wasted youth who fought
On blood stained fields
While all around the feminine and angels wept
For the suffering of men
Who lost the way to the Goddess
Severing God from nature
Isolating him within a barren blue sky
Where no vital new seeds
Could take root
Or give birth
Emerging From The Dark Night 