A Soldiers Journey Poem by Philip Lore

In wars beginning, I see my end,
No emotion, no laughter, just my soul to mend.
Soiled hands and blistered feet,
Sordid images, incomplete.

Reaching for my journeys end,
Infinitely suffering, with hollow men.

In wars cruel circle, I must remain,
At one with my destiny of indescribable pain.
Life unravels, unreprooved, undesired,
Flushed, bored, withered, tired.

This dead end still holds a flicker of light,
No more Godless people,
Transitory life.

Always wondering beyond life's door,
To live a blissful life and suffer no more.