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.
Discussion about this post
No posts
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!