There are days when I stare up at the sky, & I look back in
time,  back when the skies weren't always so blue and
gleeful. And much like the sky, the earth beneath was
scorched and grey, watered with nothing but the tears of the
sad and miserable.  Loved ones said their last goodbyes, as
boys became men, and men became ash. Mothers who would never
caress their child's face again

      Who do we cry to now? Who will we hate?  Who makes
our fathers and our children bear arms? When a young soul
must taste the bittersweet juices of the battlefield and
learn to accept its atrocious nature,  then we might as well
have pulled the trigger ourselves. Every time a young child
must bear the coldness of a gasmask against his delicate
skin, we lose a piece of our humanity. But only when we
accept these horrors as an aspect of reality, only then all
is lost

      And that sky... the unknown soldier lays face
up...gazing deeply into.. .waiting to touch it.  Trepid with
fear, he tries to hold onto his past as he nears the light.
Who will lay his flowers? Who will remember the unknown
soldier