when “future” seems merely inevitable

He was a soldier
living alone
He was a soldier
roaming the war zone

Living one moment
but oh not the next
and thus falls to me
to make sense of in text

leave us be
love and me

for
in the past
I let you have
a piece
and you passed it back
to her

not me

yesterday
myself and they
strolled up the path to Neverland

and in a shallow grave
myself and some of they
found rest and space to pray

myself and some of they
on stones and grass and hay
and glory’s way