Amongst the dying, amongst the rage,
within the thousand souls and a thousand more,
twisting in their own remorse,
I found so heavenly a voice, so powerfully calm,
not once, not twice, but again, again and again did I fall.
I fell for that voice, that voice, who?

Was it a lone soldier, finding solace in the aftermath?
Was it a villain, freed from the confines of a life long lost at the hands of rage, insanity?
Was it the common man who stayed untouched, or was it one who found dreams beyond wonder?
Was it a mother's lullaby, a sister's requiem, a daughter's salute?

Lying in blood, in smoke and scream, it swept up each fleck of horror,
carrying, in gentle hands, perhaps, every sin and every lie, obligation and grief,
to the pinnacle of truth seen just beyond the clouds;
lying there, I'd never felt smaller.
There it was, the mountain of judgement, a soldier for truth,
and the voice delivered to it every excruciating injustice and the tears of the evil, of the good and the poor.
That voice, that voice! Sing again, sing forever more,
the anthem of salvation that echoed through the burning woods.
And so I ask,

why do you sing? Who is it that hears you?
You sing for your lover, your mentor, your child?
Do you sing for every warrior lost to time's manipulation?
Do you sing for every survivor, galvanised, everlasting, immortal?
Do you sing for the gods and their reckless plans?
Or perhaps, for yourself? O Voice, god, merciful god,
the melody you shower upon these bloodied lands,
knows not how undeserving we are to hear its splendour.

I asked who you were, but now, I only ask,
that you walk past our corpses and say not a word.
But merely sing, sing as you have,
and never be weak to slip in our blood.
But to find your way out of this horror, this world of the doomed,
and find a dream long forgotten:

The dream of a soldier's unconditional smile,
the dream of a mother's undying pride;
The dream of two lovers, and their unison unhindered,
The dream of every villain to turn back the waves of time.
The dream of every fighter, for justice or survival, to find peace among the peaceful,
The dream of every sister who marched by the bodies, longing for his blissful return from our land.
The dream of every daughter who arose amongst the fallen, to live free and not fight;
And the dream of the common man, to soar victorious, to see sights unknown, to suffer and rise, to end and begin.

And as you walk, I see, you are not far.
Or perhaps, what I see,
Perhaps it's a dream.
O Voice, god, merciful god,
Sing.