Colin F. Jones


Great shock; darkness; he falls down dead,
Brain and life’s blood bubbling from his head.
Protesting nerves shudder with his cry;
To, soon, too soon, this soldier had to die.
The soul withers; the Spirit floating free,
All thought lost, memories with it flee…
Leaving conscious silence mysteriously alive,
No past no future but the Spirit will survive
Floating, floating like a bubble in dark space,
Coming to rest in a warm moist place,
To lie dormant a part of a none living soul,
Waiting for a magic seed to make it whole.
For the end is the beginning the beginning the end,
A constant cycle we cannot comprehend.