War is a wildfire marching across the globe
leaving drought, famine, and plague in the path of destruction.
The friction began with a clash over sticks that were being used as kindling.
Embers of envy smoldered in emotional tinder until growing into burning rage.
As vengeful gusts carried firebrands spreading sparks throughout the sky
the charred branches fell, littering the ground with crackling hot coals.
The heat of battle blinded us until the entire forest was ablaze.
Now, no tree remains unscarred.
The art of war is dancing with the fire like a seasoned breeze;
leading the lethal flames twirling across the terrain,
retreating into the hills, leaping across the landscape,
sweeping around in a ferocious fandango before winding down to a slow waltz.
Enduring each advance with a clear mind, like the air holding the blaze high above,
until the pouring rain falls, dousing every cinder with tears of regret
as nations of trees are washed away with the ashes.
Martial arts is becoming the unseen wind;
stoking the coals, stifling the embers, or swaying the budding woods with whispers.
After the clearing smoke signals the end of war, the seed of peace takes root.
As it grows stronger, the truth is revealed in the clear blue sky;
the beauty of the flowers can only blossom after harnessing the fire within.
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