by Jared Lorance

Created on: May 29, 2009

My lips are pressed against your neck.

But my mind is on thousands of things,

That don't bear your name.

Some large and distinct; others vague like a speck.

It is at this moment in time I first thought.

Peace is an allusion that can't be reached,

Even if it was learned; even if it is preached.

It can not be whispered; it has to be fought.

There lies the conundrum behind this issue.

When you want to change the tide,

Sometimes you have to look inside.

We are not humans but War made out of tissue.

Suddenly your lips return to mine.

I am yours again and I see my mistake,

Maybe I am wrong maybe peace can win someday.

But it's going to take love and a whole lot of time.

You are my peace I think as I feel better than before.

So lets just start here right now,

and spread the love around this town.

If people felt like I do there would never be a war.

Learn more about this author, Jared Lorance.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.