For what good is life,
If one must kill,
In order,
To preserve it?
Like lilies of the field,
We cut them down,
In order to preserve,
Their charm.
The folly of believing,
That one,
Can exist,
Without the other.
That one's breathing in,
Can be maintained,
In the absence of another,
Breathing out.
That breath,
Is not,
A gift,
From God.
Recklessly denying,
That in killing our foe,
We have chosen death,
Rather than life.
That in killing,
Those who we hate,
We have proven that we,
Do not love God.
