Elders

By Phil Rosie Gioldasis
Like just wars impossible to see.
But words like whispers sound.
Million just and without claim.
While elders stand like wise owls.
Over in high peaks above the sky.
Wait look at the mote in my eye.
For I did not put it out from hence.
But look at the mote in my brothers.
Just I am never to complain again.'
An uncertain life to guess forth.
Again again ravaging the earth.
With great torments for the wise.
For them never to be fools in guise.
For the wisdom to be there light.
And peace be in there sight forever.
But woe if populated confusion deaden.
For we will not know his wisdom