It’s sad for me to see possibilities
Go out in suits of armor,
Armed to the teeth in
Swords as tall as mountains
Bright stained eyes and rust in every place
it shouldn’t be
Making decisions in what is ultimately
A battle with one outcome
Trying to say
The game isn’t rigged
No joke
Go back, go back
And they don’t mean
Retreat.

I raise a glass above the army and pour the contents
Onto the rusted heads of past engagements
All so right once and so dead now
And I make a toast:

'Here’s to
Being happy and being with
the shadows and ghosts
Sitting a cyberspace away
in the same chair
That you sat in
When you loved them.
Let us one day sit in that chair again.'

Someone laughs early.