The Soldiers They doze and dream of women, wine and war,
The soldier's dream. The helmets on their heads
Seem heavy as they ride across the sands.
They know -- despite their youth -- of death and gore,
They muse of other campaigns long since dead,
They stroke the deadly weapons in their hands.
The wheels lurch, then roll, then stop again.
Tonight, intruders in a foreign land,
Tonight these soldiers, men, now none a boy,
This vehicle, this plan, not all in vain.
The opened door, the pause, the brisk command!
They step into the darkened streets of Troy!
wash is done
streams of lies
sons of George
From an Old Warrior to Young Warriors
If the storm breaks you must be ready
Slip beneath the surface of your mind
Step carefully there in the darkness
Direction and meaning become mere wisps of smoke
vTC Past and future are swallowed by a voracious present
Demons lurk within and without.
Those within are confined.
Make them your slaves,
and your savior.
You will get lost
temporarily at least
Fear and rage rush through your body
like tidal waves
They erupt in your stomach
explode upward into chest and brain
It seems that mere flesh and blood
cannot contain such fury
But they can -- young warriors -- they can
Such a fragile vessel -- so small
And yet it can hold an ocean of torment
This is your greatest strength, young warriors,
And dearly shall you pay for it.
If you find yourself alive
When the smoke of battle clears
give thanks for the Great Mystery
Swim slowly up from the depths of madness
too much light too soon will blind you
Make you crazy forever
Your pain and confusion will subside
But you will never entirely mend.
Patience and time and a kind fate
Will allow you to find your way again
Tired in your soul perhaps
With sadness in your heart
But a day will come, young warriors
When the sun will shine again.
` S.V. Ashman