Gazing inside the
world's largest library,
ornate marble columns
lift a rotunda skyward,
vaulted windows
bestow harmonic wisdom,
painted angels inspire quiet
contemplation.
The Capital close by —
The Path to Peace once well-travelled
now overgrown,
corrupted.
A false Flame of Knowledge burns
atop the dome,
fueled by dusty books
feeding the war furnace below.
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I like that last stanza about a false Flame of Knowledge with the books fueling like furnace. Talk about a strong symbolism!
As someone working as a part of the military-industrial complex, your poem resonated with me... Great work!