Drink deep this echoing silence,
the winds that touch us no more,
the curses of dreams, remembered
upon waking and terrible.
Those things we have not been,
ghosts clinging like dried
sweat upon our skin, sounds
we still hear when the voices
that spoke them out into
gloom are long since gone.
The recognition of our own cruelty that glance into a darker mirror than we would ever willfully meet, our eyes gone feral within fa...
We have been dreaming in unison but those dreams have fallen into disrepair, eaten away by the persistent rust of the many days here...
These fields are remade renewed upon our blood nourished with the strident calls of those hurt and dying in the smoke and roar of battle all...