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The Ruin
Splendid this rampart is, though fate destroyed it,
The city buildings fell apart, the works
of giants crumble. Tumbled are the towers,
Ruined the roofs, and broken the barred gate,
Frost in the plaster, all ceilings gape,
Torn and collapsed and eaten up by age.

Most days I wake up feeling hopeful and do not turn to the poetry of ‘The Ruin’. Today, although I write for peace and pray for peace I feel the uphill battle for reason and respect has taken a downturn this week.

Perhaps if all poets wrote a poem for peace on the same day the world might shift on its axis and come to its senses? If this was done at the same time as people prayed to a benign God for peace then may be, just may be some good will come of it.

‘More things are wrought by prayers than man ever dreamed of’

Have a peaceful and fulfilling day – Denny Bradbury

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