War is Closing We raise our will, with redundant drills, that let us lay and lead to our fills, Till all that remains is to hit and strike, Two stones from the way building a hike.
Hoping a hope, favoured in turn, To a moment of heat, intended to burn, Break and tenderize, the savoured little We managed meanwhile, from deeds brittle And then a reversal, of fated days, Stands and stares, tearing our gaze, Showing us clear, in abundant light, The bricks we laid for memorials in sight. Some joined hands some bent their knees, Facing the idols or fearing the seas, Of tales well told in spate of relief, Yet enchanted in moulded belief. so
Shapeless still, conformed we bear, Words with meanings, loud and clear, But none that may hold up our endless sling, In Metaphors of life with wars closing.