The Gaze of War

I have seen the war,
Not on paper, not in lines.
I have seen it buried deep,
In the salt of weeping eyes.

In a dream it came to me,
Where the blood like rivers ran.
A dying moment, holy light,
Fading fast from soul of man.

Every whistle cut a life,
Burning shadows, cold and vast.
I saw the cynics in the crowd,
While the martyrs breathed their last.

That dream… it did not hold its peace,
It screamed like madness in the night.
The cries of hundreds, torn and lost,
And horses wailing in their fright.

How can this be? I ask of you,
Why did this vision pierce my soul?
Is it a storm that’s yet to come?
A dark cyclone beyond control?

You do not know what lies behind
The wall of bodies, cold and still.
You’re safe at home, you’re all alone,
While the soldier’s ghost has had his fill.

Amidst the thousand nameless masks,
I saw a face I used to know.
The hollow sockets bled in vain,
Into the hungry earth below.

He fixed his hollow gaze on me,
I could not run, I could not cry.
Within his eyes — a heavy dawn,
He breathed the war, he breathed the lie.

I could not turn my head away,
It wasn't him who watched me there.
The bloody roads, the broken men —
All focused in that single stare.

And in that flash, I understood,
The truth that chilled me to the bone.
It wasn't him, it wasn't sleep...
The War itself was on its throne.

Chaos, madness, hands in blood,
The silhouette had claimed them all.
And then, through tears of crimson hue,
He heard the ancient battle call.

I have seen the war.
This dream is etched within my mind.
And having learned this simple truth,
To the killing fields I am assigned.