The metaphor here made The Epiphany a very different piece than it might have been.

The prolonged conflict has come to a close,
Its scars remaining throughout the scorched earth.
Both factions now rethinking their worth,
And the verity of the path each one chose.

The survivors of the battle seek each other,
Across the barren remnants of the land.
While no longer bearing armaments in hand,
They want war to cease rather than smother.

Hours passed, and slowly the soldiers gathered.
They are tired, utterly defeated.
Each side stands apart, their tension heated,
Even as the worst had boiled over and lathered.

All differences withheld are cast aside
As all involved attempt a lasting truce.
This would make warfare bereft of its use,
And bring about the ebb of its high tide.

Above is the composition of my heart,
The antithesis of rhyme and reason.
To rid myself of this haggard season
Is to tear doubt and selfishness apart.

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