His mind drifts like a restless, hunting eye,
Where poisoned, heavy thoughts and shadows lie,
Distorting rhythms of the human race,
With one long, lingering look upon the base.
For scattered dreams, unborn amidst the noise,
Threaten to break his last and utmost poise.
His fleeting joys, like rusted armour, fade—
A sudden plunge into the crimson shade.
A weary soldier left with tools to fight,
Locked in a dark and driving, pumping rite,
Observed from near and through the distant drill,
He holds the charm, yet cannot climb the hill.
For death, he knows, extends an icy hand,
Where gain and loss divide the quiet land.
Regardless of the high or of the low,
He seeks a change within the human row.
With dreams of glory playing in his soul,
He longs for love and brotherhood made whole—
To cross the ocean by the mind’s decree,
And taste of life while longing to be free.
