There he is.
Lying on the ground.
Alone in the cold, waiting to be found.
He's oblivious to the cries, the terror, the hate,
oblivious to his slowing heart rate.
The hard earth beneath is slipping away.
Death is doing its all to make him pay.
For how dare he not cry out in fear?
How dare he smile when death is near?
Yet his resolve is solid, intact and pure.
His sacrifice is his pride, his nectar, his cure.
The bullets that tore his body apart,
left untouched his mind, his heart.
Flooded with tales of his homeland's wins,
He's overcome with emotion as he thinks of long gone sins.
His lips curl into a contended smile,
his thoughts are away by many a mile.
In the jaws of death, his mind on his nation,
His soul is adrift in obvious celebration.
For what way to die is better than this?
Giving life for your country is such a bliss.