A brief poem to make a crucial remark regarding of the wars’ in the Middle East, and the historical value of the region, which despite conflict is still a gem.
The Persian Perish Song
Accustomed to war,
heathened by dirt,
lies a quaint little land,
that tyrants bled to shore.
Standing tall through historical pyres.
Blazing past shahs of mythical desire.
Reaping seeds of communist greed,
landing hails of religious heed.
Surrounding musk of ever green,
marble clad flooring,
filled with stories,
ready to bleed.
Landmarks, land masked, razed,
plundered into holes.
Cultured, gutted beauty,
covered to the pores.
From kings to tyrants
to shahs of waging war.
and the Persia that always was.