these days are frought with anger a facsimile of the waste land

no trenches other than the horror of death dispensed by some computer controlled by a contrary angel half a planet away

this conflict is the Agamemnon of our age

played out on the plains of Meggido

civilisations do clash as history says

yet are not worth a single aliqout of vengeance if it dispenses with one more life as an olive is pressed between stones to liberate its precious oil is of so little value

Afghanistan the graveyard of empires

time to desist and address the balance sheet of wars declaring a truce

no conflict is so prolonged and so devoid of meaning

history will declare its verdict

a folly of pride

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