The apocalyptic soldier
begins with a hopeless fatigue.
Eyelids teetering
on the edge of eternal sleep.
Developing the will to adapt
or die.

He will follow the trail of
corpses
like breadcrumbs.
The physical glimmer
of something once forgotten.

He has carried the load on his back.
The weight
of a thousand broken men
bruising his shoulders.
The eyes of youth
staring in a despondent awe.

Among his pack is the idea of a goal.
A destination.
This clever illusion
just something to cling to
when he leaves joy
to waste on the bottom of his shoes.

Overwhelmed with the loss
of any human faces.
any at all.
he falls victim
to his hollow body.
The child, left alone,
can do nothing but wait
for the mercy of a busy God.

And here lies the death of hope.