Colin F. Jones

WHAT IS DONE IS DONE

Dwell not on that which you cannot change,
For what is done you cannot rearrange,
And though you weep tis for yourself you cry,
For we are hurt when our dear brothers die.
Tis the loss we feel; the empty place he filled,
The not knowing why it was he who was killed.
There seems no purpose no point in living life:
Tis always hardship war and other strife.
Yet there is always the wonderment of the inner fire,
The warmth of love from which we never tire,
That even death doth fail to remove,
Because our God in wisdom doth such love approve.
Weep not for soldiers though they are your sons,
For it was not their souls that ignited all those guns.