field of flowers

 

the armoured car trundled

through shadows thrown

by cathartic mankind

and the gathering gloom

the seargent clicked his teeth

fate weaved at the loom

and the General caught his breath

at a countryside made beautiful

even in the death of the departing daylight

(the sun god is dying)

even now he felt the old doubts

and tried to understand

and felt a tear for trying

who is fit to say

who to live

and who to die

the question creased the General's brow

and the armoured car turned west to Beal Na Blath