It was the white noise
Of heartbreak, against a backdrop
Of bleak fog across the
Blacktop;
Children's heads inclined
Tipped their necks
Managed mass wide-eyed
Awe—to assume
The moment,
Consume their pasts.
And sparrows manipulated
The atmosphere
By arrow configuration
Sculpting proofs through
Tidal sonic waves and ultra-violent light years,
In slow motion,
On atomic fears for chronic fixation.
So kaleidoscope friction became this
Eyeful or eyesore on sky-borne decision;
The bombs sprang beautiful,
Suspended by the handful
For gravity submission.
Every heart can hear, that listens—
Though rarely does a soul mean to hold ends
In any context, but amongst the
Bray and fray of wars
Years or hours old.
But you'll still suit up,
March the borders of
The continental spirit
For even ephemeral bliss
Can bade eternal remembrance—
If only to afford you access
To visions of a visceral fortress
You've long fought against, and with;
If only to permit permanent essence
To any stretch of limit or merit
Bearing on your blatantly blaring existence—
And I am all in,
Where care abides, just as when
The universe provides unit force to
Every battlefront conflict we've commanded;
I am
All for never forgetting you.
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