Regeneration?
Dark moss strewn forest, damp soft underfoot
through which meander lost souls faded grey;
silenced and in silence they are watched, heads
half turned away. Mizzle coats drape dun days.
Once eternal blue skied sunshine, hope, spring
wave crashed beaches, pebbles washed bright in surf
ground small in duller hues until, ashen
hearthed, khaki’d; transported across the Earth.
Millennia march shouldered men into
the fray. Strong belief, the cause just and right
until eroded by events. Bodies,
minds, stop. Flames blown out crumpled wax drawn blight.
Lost grey souls walk looking for salvation
they know war is humanity’s creation.
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