Hills of joyful green

Roll through the eye forever un-seen

Laughter of Children rampant in the street

Hawkers hawking wares, crying out “meat”

The days of love have come and gone

Just as that of the setting sun,

 

Men in shinny steal massing for the kills

While children run screaming for the shelter of the hills

Fathers and Sons, Brothers and Uncles raise a mighty cheer

“Defend our green, and let non come near.

With a mighty roar and fate in hand

The shinning mass charges the land,

 

Blood rains down from the heavens and blankets the land

Surely as our Lord weeps for children grasping at his hand

Deaths tainted shadow sweeps over the earth

Whilst the women silently weep at their hearth

Time flows by and as the ravens settle to the ground

One young soldier triumphantly looks around,

 

The day is won he cries out and raises his arms in cheer

Yet the merciless cackle of the crow is all that he does hear

Stumbling around fallen “heroes”, whom have had their light extinguished

He realizes that this is not the way; this is not a perfect finish

What was to be glory and honor turns out naught

A field of horror and carnage was wont to be thought,

 

Sniffles could be heard coming from the hills

Where children cold and scared did watch the kills

An innocent soul does wander to the blood soaked field

With a silent cry grasps a bloody hand, which once, did life shield

Light has faded from his smiling face, and with black wings has been replaced

Father, I will take up your sword, and with vengeance shall my soul be laced,

 

With silent brooding, the young soldier does watch this scene

Where it was his sword that hath bloodied this once magnificent green

Tears stream down his face unchecked

As fettled prayers on his lips are flecked

The Lord has abandoned my soul, left it for Hell

I am so young, yet am now just an empty shell,

 

 

 

Mournful eyes search the heavens for answers that are non coming

Trembling hands reach for faith while unsteady feet bore him stumbling

Away from this scene of bloody horror does he flee

Away from all that which youthful conscience was forced to see

To run from the past, to escape his torturing demons

Which continually haunt him for all his remaining seasons,

 

An old man remembers a bloody day upon a magnificent green

When he was much younger much more naive

To think war is glory and honor in hand

When really it is just more blood, to fertilize the land

A lesson learned through hardship and pain

To come to realize that war is much more than a game,

 

Time ticks the ages away

With not much more to say

War takes all that is beautiful

The brave, strong, young, dutiful

We watch as their lives slip from our grasp

And fail to realize, with just a little love, peace can be ours at long last.

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Disorder/demolition will return to naught.

excerpt from Haaaaaaay-ward. word.   by mirada