The armies are gathering their forces.
They are planning their strategy.
Good against what the other side thinks is evil.
The combatants gather their courage.
The bugler sounds the charge.
In a frenzy of hate the armies begin to converge.
Running toward each other with weapons drawn.
Suddenly, amid them,
A little child, is chasing a puppy,
across the field of battle.
The soldiers stop.
They drop their weapons.
Tears well up.
The armies meet.
The battle is won.
Blessed are the innocent,
For they are the peacemakers.