A Morning's Contemplation

In the shadowed realm where silence breeds,
Among the whispered tales of deeds,
A world complacent, eyes averted,
From the violent storms, unalerted.

Morning coffee, bitter, sweet,
A daily ritual, a silent beat,
The price unchanged, the world unshaken,
Amidst the chaos, souls awaken.

How could such order, method, pain,
In human hearts, so long remain?
The Holocaust, its darkened stain,
Genocides, humanity's bane.

We pondered, lost in thought's embrace,
A lack of awareness, a hidden face,
Yet now, the truth, clear and grim,
Life's simple pleasures, lead to sin.

Yeats might whisper from the past,
A warning that our morals cast,
In shadows, for our morning brew,
Forgets the pain of others, too.

In verses, let us not forget,
The lessons of history, eternally set,
May morning coffee stir the mind,
To seek the truth, and justice find.

R.W.B Yeats