Star trails in the sky. Many men will die tonight. The wind so
lossless in our wake. I hope destiny knows what’s here at stake. Flicker
of a light in distance of the night. Alright, we gather in garter of
soil. Rifles loaded in turmoil. Oil flowing out from a downed tiger.
Sliver of truth in this here youth. There, the red flowers painted in
the sky. A whistle followed by. They latch to sound and shoot around.
Spirals each way. Glowing bright like stars in May. This day, here, now.
They leap from side to side. Men scream to coincide. Abiding now it
rests. A whistle again this time the men will dream in wonderland of no
mans land. Rise and rise in again for mother of this here land. Red
stars atop of brushed metal. Gold buckles so fatal. Bayonet head first
into the deep greyed öst. I hear swords rattle - cling against armour.
Doubtful. The yells within the fog of war. The music score that has
began to play next door. I hear Beethoven in quartet, am I to forget, to
leave my memory of you - barren like this land. I’m covered by the dirt
from rain breaking this here earth. In trenches with fallen angels.
Vandals run holding smoking guns. Last whistle and it’s over. So ever
do I fever. Last kill of the night, last broken knight. I close my eyes
as I fall in hope. It’s just a battle I swear to myself. This war hasn’t
bloomed enough death. A spawn of memory where you and I - my brother in
the sky - will never have the need to die.

- Dedicated to my Grand-Grandfathers for their sacrifice in the second world war.