The Cause

The lyrics of war danced across the chalky land;

its melody had filtered the souls
of those who trudged through it
until they were only black sacs
of skin.

A harmonious surrender hung from the faces of the

wanderers,
sweet in its emptiness and dis-resolve –
a type of silence which was so void of hope
that it seemed
beautifully orchestrated
and
somewhat
fulfilling.

"This
is not me;
I hand myself over to the cause."