In my heart, I feel a great sorrow
sadder than the slowest flute.
I have stayed up half the night
filling my thoughts, through the written word,
of warriors, heroes, wives and friends.
Though not mine.
Now, I turn my mind to
those I'll soon leave behind
and those I've yet to meet.
I look ahead with unnamed fear.
What will become of me?
Back, there is a single tear
Will I be able to hold
close to me
those whose faces have become
like mirrors of my own thoughts
I know them so well.
their faces have formed my thoughts