Boreas’ Melody

and Boreas played his harp through the night.

fools and wise men

the happiness that fools enjoyis the wise man’s demise – but, in the end,when the breaths leave inert bodies,who is right? and so the wars fought between“rights” and “wrongs” will never endbecause what is wrong,is right for another,and what is right for one,is wrong for the other

denial

she lures me in, the temptress with the tempest. my blindness overwhelms me.

march on, soldier

the drums are loud.so is our breathing.our hollow eyes, our hollow heart,beating in timewith the hollow dreamsand our breathless breaths. dirt and grime clingsto everything.to our clothes, our shoes,our hearts, our eyes,our tears that fallas our friends fall. we arrived, joyous and loud,fifty five of us,baby-faced, fresh breaths,worn soldiers looked with sadness,we didn’t understand. we