Marchin’ On

A battalion, 64 in 8 rows, on the dusty road
kilometers of unbrokeness, behind and ahead.
each wearer soldier no longer of his own
his mind and his past disappears in his trek.

Doom and despair are left in the wake,
shattered shards of heart left in Saigon.
What could we do, what actions can we take?
only to head towards eternity, forever marching on.

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