I stand to the side.
Yet such deep desire for the end!
So that Armageddon can begin.
That Armageddon might come to be.
A futile battle when words are too strong.
I calm; visualizing bubbles of love for all.
To the heart, the spirit, the divine.
“We will fail,” I say.
“No one’s perfect,” he says.
Might you forgive mine too?
I offer hugs of compassion.
I cannot play, or partake or feign acceptance.
I cannot accept Armageddon is the only way.
I cannot yell, throw things, emasculate.
Becomes an archetype of history.