His mind is lonely
The isolation of his thoughts
Produces a merciless dilemma.

His reflections, his dreams
His aspirations, his actions
Are now strangers unto him.

Yet the faith of things to come
A knowledge of the future
Produces a triumphant victory.

On A Conversation Gone
But Not Forgotten

You said I couldn't understand war
     as you did,
     a thing of fear, loneliness and despair,
     you, lost
     in a cause with no meaning.
I smile sadly remembering,
     I suffer also, your fear
        and mine.
     I am alone, having lost you
        to a cause forgotten.
     Each letter you write
       and each you don't gives me pain.
You with your reality of war
     and I with mine,
Who is to say which of us suffers more?

Sand, leaves, all things dead and small
Are airborn by it's breathy call,