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Are we cosmic—
Or chaos in disguise?
Our love burned bright,
Yet so does my sorrow—
Like the stars,
Still shining
Long after
They’ve died.
You
First
I count
All the stars
Shining above.
But after you came,
And I watched you go,
Now I sit— wise,
Pensive, and
Count the
Dark.
As the gunfire ceased
And the battlefield began to weep
There he lies: frozen, asleep.

Battered and lifeless, his hands idle upward—
Through their veins marched a thousand men
They sang their spirits of fury and rage;
Now they rest, unwilling to sing again
As a thousand melodies and songs unheard
Flow for a final time
Upward, through the fingers—
Never to be sung,
Just once,
Only then.

— The End —