One Final Request From the Fallen Heroes.
Stark sentinels of stone, standing silent, alone.
Their comrades reflect past a speaker's dry drone.
Can cold comfort be said to these young valiant dead?
Who bequeath to us more than a safe secure bed?
Scarred, battered bones, in hushed solemn tones,
whisper one last request meant for our ears alone:
The bars in the flag shine crimson and snow.
They call out to us the rights they bestow.
Seek out every star, set midnight in blue.
Be worthy of us as we were of you.
They kept unspoken dreams, yet dark destiny deems
they can never live out, blown apart at the seams.
These stray measures of flesh that no longer will mesh,
are gathered beneath us in mounds green and fresh.
Do not shudder in dread at their crude muddy beds.
Let the living demand that what follows be read:
Here stands a sanctum where courage can roam.
These were the tools for our freedom at home.
Such love of their brethren can never be known.
Heroes lie here from whence free men are sown.
The bars in the wind snap crimson and snow.
They cry out to us the gifts they bestow.
They are every star, set midnight in blue.
Be worthy of us as we were of you.
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