2016 07 05
When fluid moonlight gleams through dreaming trees
beyond stone wall where apple trees bloom full
I run through swirling mist while blinking eyes
guide my way to glowing hearth of my bride.
I wake from this sweet dream of paradise
just as I wrap arms around her waist
and her soft lips dissolve at flash of dawn
far away from glowing hearth of my bride.
I shiver as we march in pouring rain,
clutch our rifles to terror-beating hearts,
and gasp for breath when we shoot into mist,
fighting to protect glowing hearth of my bride.
I scream like wild wolf and race into fire
and stab too many men in blinding rage,
then stand alone among heaps of dead men,
dreaming about glowing hearth of my bride.
Last man standing on battlefield of hate,
I crown myself king of corpses and ghosts,
and parade in triumph through hell in search
forever for glowing hearth of my bride.
In foul swamps of rotting corpses I trudge,
over hot deserts of cracked skulls I crawl,
and through tangled woods I struggle for hope,
but never find glowing hearth of my bride.
Stop in this vale on your journey for wealth,
all you who travel so far from your home,
and hear tale of my loss whispered in wind
how I searched for glowing hearth of my bride.
Though no traces remain on field of grass
by river that sparkles by glow of stars,
here in these trees once stood strong home I built
and you might find glowing hearth of my bride.