as we die

high on the haunches of this war machine
the enterprising man can succeed
but
the struggle for peace strips me of my faith

even the grass speaks
of the depressing state of things

only the realist holds to the fight
but
the stiffness of the dry ground
 punishes us for our hope

everything fades to fog
each man alone in this place

we brought this trailing sea
 of joy and hope
but
as we die everything
comes undone