The Prayer of a Dying Soldier

On a deserted piece of land.
His ravaged body lies.
His sword was by his side,
His armour lay shattered.

His eyes are turned to the Maker,
Filled with tears that are now dry.
His face is scarred with tales,
Of the wars that have gone by.

The hand that was once steady,
The hand that rose in friendship.
The same that took up the sword,
Now lies trembling, in a pool of blood.

His lady was by his side,
Her eyes filled with tears immeasurable.
His son stood by her side,
Staring at his father and into the dismal gloom.

The father looks not at his child,
But, up to the Maker.
With a prayer on his lips,
One, that every soldier has.

“To, Thee Father, Mercy I ask,
For, my own brothers I have killed.
Forgive me Father for the grief i have brought,
Unto Thee and all mankind”.

“Forgive, my brothers, O Father!
For they have fought this war,
Not for themselves,
But for the greed of a few men.”

“Men, who were once brothers,
Till greed drew them apart.
Woe be on the day Adam the apple ate,
For Knowledge is indeed dangerous.”

“It makes man kill, not for food,
But for the love of gold.
The knowledge from the apple, unjustly taken,
Now kills his own flesh and blood.”

“O Lord! What a cursed life this is?
The anger of a few seconds,
Turned into a lifetime of misery.
O Lord! What kind of a creature is man?”

The soldier’s prayer thus ends.
From the dismal clouds of gloom,
Come the gentle showers of rain.
With them, they bring the Father’s tears.

They are the tears of joy,
From the Father.
For at last man has found man.
The man, the Father made.

Dispelled are the clouds of gloom.
The clear skies have now come.
The Father, ready to accept his son,
Long forgotten in a world of gloom.

The soldier looks now unto his son,
Then unto his suffering wife, one last time.
For his time has now come.
To go to his father, The Maker.

With one last gasp, With one last sigh,
He bids adieu to this world of gloom.
To go to his father………. For now,
Only to return and die again.