“War is over” —The Unknown Soldier, Doors, 1968
Waiting for the fads to end—
and what really matters to take hold.
But when all this nonsense finally ends
will I be too old?
Miss Sexy, you look the same!
The poet is feeling affectionate again.
There are no soul mates; the soul is alone.
We fall in love with faces,
sarcasm, a certain look of flesh and bone.
In this world, be assured,
I will always love your illusion; I give my word.
Impossible that a small cloud is blocking the sun—
(darkening a Massachusetts shore)
which is also lighting Florida—the same one.
The sun up there cannot be that size
unless every shore in the world repeats
the same scene. Look! Our sun dies
simply by squinting one of our eyes.
Illusion, illusion. The world’s real illusion
which only the mind understands.
Love and life, in truth, are war. A sea of hands.
Peace and love belong to death. The unknown soldier.
Peace is death. Peace is death. War is over.