All In War - the Telegram

This soul is locked forever wounded In the torment of this particular day; The question "why" has not been graced With answers understandable. And my tears, Along with the questions Have no voice... No peace.. No choice... So always, and sometimes, hope in wonderment The spirit of my courage And his duty Is more or less of finer things... But, after all the wishes, I am just a Windflower White and fragile, And stubbornly alive On a sharp rocked shore Next to an undulating Black marble monument... Standing for the lost and the fallen. Waiting in a tremble of despair For my own Hero of certain reality, Who understands Windflowers And the need for A sheltering embrace In this particular life, On this particular day On a golden afternoon Before a knock on the door Locks my soul Forever wounded.... On this particular day...