Chiefs of Illusion


		Bombs burst overhead,
		explosions aground,
		lessen each hour . . .
		. . . now no more sound.

		Darkness is heavy,
		cold air cuts bone deep,
		too tired to reason,
		too frightened to sleep.

		Huddled in foxholes,
		both dead and alive,
		listening for movement,
		. . .  will we survive?

		When will the light come?
		We've lost track of time.
		Fear grips every muscle
		deceiving the mind.

		Horizon of fire,
		slow clearing of smoke,
		bring anticipation
		of glory and hope.

		But what is revealed,
		as rays penetrate,
		is unspeakable horror,
		we chose to create.

		Blood covers the hillside,
		replacing the green.
		Death fills the valleys,
		destruction’s the scene.

		Mere skeletons remain,
		no children were saved,
		a deafening silence
		hangs over this grave.

		No laughing together,
		no playing of games,
		the innocent are gone,
		and we are to blame. 

		The war is now over.
		Last battles are done,
		but wounds cannot heal,
		for no one has won.

		They fester within us,
		leave questions inside,
		....for what did we fight...
		their freedom... our pride?

		Who will forgive us
		for standing so strong,
		for themes that possessed us,
		ideals gone wrong?

		The elders before us
		taught all that they knew,
		we modeled ourselves
		to their point of view.

		We dared not question
		the wisdom of giants,
		just followed their orders
		in total compliance 

		Now here we all are,
		the few who've survived,
		so little is left 
		of what they contrived.

		And we who must stand
		before men tomorrow,
		reap somber rewards
		of guilt and sorrow.

		How could we have known
		our sword and their staff,
		would lead us blindly
		along the wrong path?

		So many afflicted,
		so many have died,
		visions betrayed us,
		the honorable lied.

		Why all the confusion
		when actions seemed right?
		Chiefs of illusion
		created the fight!