Fortune 500 employed yet pinning all aspiration on prose. Too young to appreciate in too long too old to remember. Waves of able bodies spent, littering the field of battle.
Prayers hover like smoke.
Faces contort in primeval masks. Fear in battle with reason. Good men die as ordered, all mothers' sons in another life. Allowing few allusions of this night's work. My heart is a warm place with a memory that beats strong.