By you I will meet
Hundreds of thousands
Of men.
Men in uniform
And tattered scraps of skin.
Men who bore their
Hearts to God
And enemies of them.
Men with years
Of majestic mountains
In their eyes
And a soft sea
In the ones who
Can barely understand.
When the sun speaks
To them of the life
Left created,
They will cry
Desperately for death
And the devil
To take them.
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