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.