A Chorus Of Complaints *1
The thick clouds followed the contour of golden hills,
moving with a flock of sea ghosts,
traveling through the coast,
it was a strange return,
for the young men who would burn,
after the explosion left the sea,
tears hid beneath God’s polished cheek-bones,
as war ghosts were floating beyond
the green tangles of wilderness,
life done, survivors none,
as clouds passed over the sun,
life wanted more,
but the angels knew that wasn’t possible,
as their angelic feet threaded lightly over the mosaic floor,
there were no choices,
as the soldiers heard the voices,
passed loved ones came to show the way,
with candles lit for such a dreary day,
death had no restraints,
but life echoed a chorus of complaints,
dark shadows were contemplating,
and God was weary with waiting,
his voice thundered with indignation,
as he witnessed the doom,
and the spirits took their time,
inspecting their burial tomb.
