Years go by, leaving us with nothing,
Heroic blackness,
Cowardly Veils.
He smugly sat speaking:
Tales of war by veterans of sedation,
Fables of triumph by victors of none.
But there were no larks,
No singing,
No bravery.
Where was he when the war had come,
Where were you when he fled to home.
And left in lore and legacy:
You are forced upon his quarrels.
You inherit his foe.
We lived,
We felt dawn,
But there was no sunset to glow.
Isaac Olajos
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