Untitled #2

Bent rifle gleaming in dawn’s bronze- gold light,

Still alive, mere bruised eyes and ragged breath,

On the white beach lies his glorious fight,

The soldier marches on, dreaming of death:

Imagine the scene, what  a sight it be !

Blood on white sand,  gem- dead eyes to the skies,

To Skies, horizon, to epiphany-

Bravery, beauty- in death’s amber lies;

Mature men live for the cause they esteem,

Build chapel and house with brick-stone floors-

But, oh, the soldier dies in sand and dream

Anoints with worthy blood, unworthy shores;

But unbeliever I, dark and quiet,

Who could I understand but thee?, zealot. 

Inspired by the Catcher in the Rye.