Just something I wrote today while working on a short essay regarding the current financial and political mess the US is in. I kind of like it.


A Soldier MournsThe funeral drums are beating, While the drums of war are receding. Weve fought and bled on dozens of fields. The pristine beauty of faraway lands. From the valleys to the plains to the mountains, Weve tainted them all with war. And now at the end of it all, when the war is finally over, Some politician gets a new term, Some media man gets a new head line, Some corporation gets a new contract. While my brothers and I, We get new nightmares to haunt or sleep.A Soldier Mourns


SorrowStanding on the brink of eternity Waiting for the fall from apathy. Staring down the endless lights, That flood the sky of my nights.Sorrow
Disillusioned from my dreams, That used to be, what I wanted to see. Waiting slowly for sorrows mourn, To swallow the dreams that never were.
Disconnected from myself, Starting blindly down the path. That path what will lead, inevitably To the mournfulness of eternity.
I am chained, however still free. Slipping fast into ecstasy. Eternal bliss, brought on only By sorrows wish for eternity.


EternityHere I stand and search, For my place in this eternity. I've fought my war, Lost my battles, And won my struggles. But here I stand, on the edge of it all. A step away, From falling to pieces. And yet I face, Only forward. So close to an end, So far from a begining, But my struggle continues on. I'll be here, Fighting my wars, Winning my battles, and losing my struggles. I'll be here, Looking towards my eternity, Holding on tightly, To my last edge before my fall.Eternity


Why is this the one?To take leave from, That which is dear. Is to prove to others, That trouble is near.Why is this the one?
What causes something, As strong as love, To flee and fly As quickly as the dove?
Few actions are counted That could cause such fleeting As, when in our heads, We hear the war drums beating.
Causing us to turn, And look to another, As a daughter looks, To her estranged mother.
In our minds, We know our hearts. We know our emotions And where they all start.
But how little we know Before we are shown. &
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8 Reg'Art
thank you very much for the
Glad you liked it! Ida
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