The Imitator


Twirling beacons glow warm in winter’s night


Bright white souls swiftly growing old


Sunlit sidewalks fill with chalk


Rain, feather dust and flies


A sloping sleeping heat



Tripping scores of men fall short


Icy breadth, cold sweat, and smoke


Screaming cries, a leg, pierced throat


Rivers flow through sand and mote


Seeping wounds run deep



Religion stands behind the line


Its song is an unwelcome tone


It’s faith around the soldier’s neck


A truth that’s etched in stone


In this he lives in life and death


 In this he’s not alone



Fleeting floating slumber


Sifting through the pleas


Stop to hear the thunders roar


From under the debris



Churning bones, and carcasses


Bursting forth to see


A hard caught breadth


 A truth


A death


A ship that’s lost at sea


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