My soldier is at a crossroads
so intense and so alone,
planning a path over foreign soil.
My soldier wears a uniform,
self-styled,
he is a soldier of fortune.
His nature is not violent
but gentle,
he struggles so,
in an internal battle
N\no one knows how it is
with him.
His eyes see lands
that exist only for him.
He is in exile,
from the worlds within
where he belongs.
Sometimes,
I try to get inside
and only got so far
locked in the bonds
of circumstance.
Then,
I can only love
the way his eyes look
and his hair falls.
Love the way,
his genius spins.
Hear his voice
as the world ends.
Try to take the hurt
from him,
too late,
I just can’t win
against higher plans.
I too,
learned the first rule
of command.
My soldier knows war
like a lover.
Yet he is innocent
knowing all the lines
and none of the heart.
I’ve never known
someone so noble
and so true.
Secluded, I believe
in nothing
with him,
I know a deeper truth.
I worry and fret
for his rest.
I wake,
with every hope of
a stir in consciousness.
My soldier,
is very far away.
I’ve lost him
to a distant place.
I ask him to return
and play,
no life stirs,
beneath the grave.
Solemn and mocking
this hideous gray
fills my nights
and fills my days.
A lover bargains
with all possessed
but the tyrant
takes no bets.
No humiliation,
no torture,
so grand, that
some kind god
might pity
and understand.
Devotion runs on
though its object
is gone.
Now I am alive.
For what,
would I search?
For whom,
would I strive?
I tread the earth
alone,
with mnemonic companions
and boots, old and worn.
From heaven’s heights,
to the depth of the sea,
all the world,
mourns him with me.
This soul not as worthy,
this heart not as pure,
what good is my sacrifice
with his price so much
more?
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