In The Sands Of Many Foriegn Shores.
In the sands of many foreign shores
in the soils of many jungles
in the grassy fields of Gettysburg
and in countless other battlefields
since the days of primitive men
in Godforsaken places all across the earth
sleep the Cherished, the honored, the unknown
blasted into eternity by jets tumbling
clubs smashing, arrows whizzing, spears flung
helicopters spiraling, mortars hurling
bullets decimating, grenades exploding
so many reduced to bone and ash and soil
flesh that decomposed into food for the worms
and the beetles and the maggots below
who in the process of simply surviving
by the sampling of bits of freedoms fallen
enriched the soil and caused the plants to bloom
minions of tubular bloated bodies fed the birds
and in the sands the crabs too found sustenance
and were in turn a banquet for the larger creatures
who inhabited the seas that washed over dune swept graves
so much bloodshed and sorrow reduced to fodder
both tragic and yet good for feeding the creatures
above and below, both great and small
trees bore much rich fruit, and many forms of life
flourished from the many remains returning to
states of compost mingled with memories forever lost
thousands, no millions lie in unmarked graves
contributing quietly to the continuation of
all life on earth, the land they loved
the world they gave up so that all could enjoy
the finest of life without the fears of destruction
souls ascended, and the flesh left was rendered
into life again amidst the masses of God's creatures in need
this then is a tiny bit of irony and hope in the
face of all cold and callous wars and the price exacted
when evil rears it's ugly head and men go forth to sever it.
©- MFB III
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