NICOLAS

I will not, I can not forget the awful scene,
that keeps boring unmercifully through my mind-
and so I ask myself how many souls will it cost-
will today gather yours, or will it be mine?

Let the hours of unrest, fly right on by,
let them sail the sea's horizons, let them be found-
When the battles' o'er and the inflicted touch shore-
may they be at peace, upon sacred ground.

The tangled woven threads now unraveled and frayed,
soars through the air wounded and bled-
Stained by the sword, stained by the tongue-
still carried across time, draping the dead.

Their eyes echo silence, their demise hangs in tears,
the beyond welcomes them, aborting their fears-
The man becomes memories framed by golden lamps-
illuminated by light, not to be forgotten through the years.

Blue oceans of sorrow, deepened by anguish,
anger over rides the footprints of peace-
Touch now the embedded, embrace the finest grain-
kiss the braveness of souls, face the eerie beast.

Upon each tomorrow may breezes blow light,
through the tiny holes of heaven, the stars of night-
Let their faces be seen and remembered by all-
they were mere men, not readied for fight.