There was a little boy once, crouched nervous on the stairs, in the house with no heating, his heart black and bare. It’s the end of eternity; He’s lost his daddy.
On the battlefields, bleak with fanfares, furious flag-wielding in shrieks of despair and soldiers shedding their selves, their blood for what? - for War.
Oblivious, with Reality relayed through a television prism, the tragedies managed the carnage rewritten.
And she too is shivering. Her mother holding her, holding her, telling her she loves her with the radio background spouting everything’s fine
but her daddy’s gone:
Blasted by a mine.
Far away in time in landscapes unearthly, where gravity, where sense, where shadows are defied; there, only at night in the stillness, the soft music, the echoes of children’s cries make a contrapuntal chorus amidst the blunt gunshots, the loss of good lives.