Thy Will Be Done

August 2, 2009
Crawl, so heavy with fatigue,
through the mud, churned,
with blood, and pass your brothers,
their eyes open, staring,
at what was there, locked,
at what should not be,
and as you reach, the last sounds,
the clouds part, and you find yourself,
upon the edge, the sunshine reaches,
out, to touch your cheek,
with warm embrace,
so close your eyes,
and pray, your last time,
while your body, submerges,
in others dying hopes.

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