All day the noise of battle rolls,

The skirmishes and wars,

What peace or treaty can there be

Between two worlds like ours?


Could I be lost in Venus,

Could you be found in Mars,

Then I might search your tender wounds

And you my battle scars,

Then you might pull me from my sphere

Or fall to me from yours,

Were I, perchance, in Venus

And you, perhaps, in Mars.


What wary orbits we must keep

Around our dying sun,

Falling towards the verge of sleep

When all our wars are done,

Falling towards the verge of sleep

Where, lying side by side,

The angels of our planets weep

To see two worlds collide.



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Citation Information

Malcom Guite. “The Daily Planet.” An Unexpected Journal 1, no. 4. (Advent 2018): 53.

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From Malcolm Guite The Singing Bowl, Canterbury Press 2013 p.36

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