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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.
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
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.

— The End —