War

We are the walking dead: we see it in each other’s eyes. We have survived the holocaust of bullet and blast but somewhere in that hell, we lost our hope and humanity. To look on so much death and carnage – and feel what? Nothing! Not even fear, not even hatred for the enemy. For are they just not us? A mirror image. Our fate, decided by men so far from the reality of this hell which they have created. With their greed for power, their posturing and rhetoric, expending lives so different from their own that, in their arrogance, they do not count important except as fighting machines. These souls trapped in the miasma of war trudge on, bearing this burden of emptiness, until they stop, only to sink into deep oblivion, to wake once more and gaze on the futility of war.