A rift in time
Mnemonic field
All negative, it felt
With you
No reaching hand
Will always linger
We don’t take part but are
Of you
A red-grey sky
May hold all down
My brother, who point
At you
A sea of smoke
Grows near
Towering figment, ashen vestige
In you
No call to arms
Or armistice
Returns us home
To you.