When a father sees his children fight,
His heart is filled with tears and deep despair.
He does not seek for someone to be right,
He only wants for peace to linger there.
But when the power leads the way to war,
Bringing the people nothing but their loss,
They’re twice betrayed and broken to the core,
Seeking a door to flee the heavy cross.
Twixt Persia, Zion, and the Western shore,
They’re drawing lines in blood upon the sand.
But can this world become a father’s home,
Without the love and guidance of his hand?
Across the seas, they trade in power and fame,
Pushing the youth into the deadly fray.
No matter what the empire or the name —
A father bows his grieving head today
***
© Copyright: Александр Часин, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126032406905
Свидетельство о публикации №126032406905
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