The Division of Trust by S'rith

              The Division of Trust
                    A poem by S'rith 
       This is a conversation between two brothers during the "Great War" 
                          on  Vulcan

              ~The sands scorch my feet as a I charge.~
              ~I stand still and accept the pain.~
              ~ The battle cry of my people echos.~
              ~ I listen and walk among wounded.~
               This war is not what I wanted.
               This war was not of my making.
                I swore on my honor, to the death shall I fight.
                Honor is nothing when duty is neglected.
                Brother, be silent, they come!
                     Make peace with them.
                     They are murderers and liars.
                     Have you not killed their people as well?
                Only in self-defense.
                Self-defense is reaction to the perception of threat.
                Would you rather our people die as a race?
                     ~Silence~
                Would you, brother?
                     No.
                Then will you fight?
                     No.  Forgive me, brother, I cannot raise a weapon
against another.
                I understand.
                     Do you, brother?
                I respect your choice. Killing becomes too easy after a time.
I have seen
                     many good warriors become bloodthirsty  barbarians.
                    Why do you not stop fighting if you understand?
               Because, my honor is pledged with my sword, and my duty is to
protect my
                    people.
                    Where is the logic in this war?
                    My brother, there is rarely a logical reason for war.
               Then why fight?
               Because, it needs to be done. The murderers need to be
destroyed. The dead 
                    need avenging.
               Even if it means killing children and helpless elders?
               I am suprised at you.... I am a warrior, not a butcher.
               The words are different, yet the act is virtually the same.
               The intent and the beings I visit that intent on are
different.
                    It's result is still the same. Death and more death.
               I too grow tired of this, brother. I too wish to rest. Yet,
the war drags on, and
                    I must defend my people. I MUST strike back at the enemy!
                    Then you are beyond making peace with them?
               Far beyond it.
                    ~Silence~
               May you eventually know peace, my brother.
               I hope so. Good journey, brother.
                    ~Silence~
               Hurry, go back to the wounded, the murderers are close.
                   ~ My footsteps whisper across the sand.~
 

Back to Vulcan (I wish)