[Insert Whimsically Deep Title Here]

a soldier hikes across quiet wilderness
his earthen clothing befriends him to the rocks
in the distance he sees friendly faces- he keeps walking,
a musket slung over his burdened back

a soldier sails on seas of fog over waves of granite
he finds Rip Van Winkle beneath the old oak
and lets him sleep for a little while more
as he and Washington exchange knowing looks

a soldier trudges over bouldered ridges
for a moment he stops to greet the bleeding sun
his cane breaks gravels as he soldiers on

a soldier ducks beneath an arch of steel
the sweat of those who built it rages below
rafters come round the bend to see no man

a boy walks along a wall of bloody handprints,
he dips his hand in the spring of sooty blood,
and reaches high to sign his soul and steals a praying glance
at the crying soldier as he fades to ash
The blood of innocents continues gurgling down the slopes-
the blood that would have healed the land,
cleaned the land, if only the blood weren't black
as the empty stone halls from whence it flows

a soldier smiles thru glades of cranberry
the Oreads, Naiads, and nymphs of moss attend
as the death whistle calls for the friendly Captain
his rest has come, his voyage done, his race won