We innocently choose the side of "good"
Against outrageous evil we protest
It seems so clear, we side with what is best
And take the stand we manifestly should.
All morals are mirage, a cosmic jest
That turns our supple twigs to hardened wood.
Conflict and strife invade the neighborhood
As conscience turns each tribe against the rest.
And so when on life's stage it comes to pass,
Sucked into strife by mutual disdain,
Good souls create a passionate morass-
That culminates in grief, despair and pain.
If struggle is for you a source of pride,
Give thanks for those who take the other side.
- JJM = #6 in the I Ching Sonnet project