tattered soles, dusty road
weary feet, weary eyes
sleep is for the dead, oh
sleep is for the grave.
hope is all we shall keep
weeping angels see
worlds come to rise and soon fall
motionless, locked in.
stony locks of love
watching, yet nought actions done
All Earth burns in flames
But rivers of faith
rushing, cleansing heavy hearts
peace reigns again
the dawn of the day comes with the setting sun
as empty offices glow, standing tall as Christmas trees.
Only in darkness will bright eyes be revealed
our spirits, unchained shadows, become free.
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.
Time: 10:05, night before surgery
Honestly, this is just a bit of a prewrite done on a crappy iPad keyboard that is only being worked on due to no other devices. Yeah yeah, too spoiled. Whatever.
I wanted to just sorta document my mental state, and my current worries, before going in to the surgery, which will be the first time in my memory of going under general anesthesia, something that I find to be completely fascinating.