I fear death for reasons that are many and unknown to me,
I fear the oblivion, like many,
I fear the darkness, like some,
I fear the reality that I won't be able to contemplate anymore.
I won't be able to acknowledge the oblivion,
Or the darkness.
"But what if you are loved by many and remembered fondly?"
Then rather selfishly I will not care
As I cannot care when I cannot contemplate.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
On the wet soil the fallen soldier lay,
Closing his eyes to be silent and pray,
Somehow he knew this was his final day,
But even so on this earth he had wanted to stay,
So many things he had left to say,
So he thought of his mother as his vision turned grey,
It can't be long now,
He can no longer cry,
So on the wet soil
The dead soldier did lie
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC