TO THE SOUNDS OF MARCHING FEET BY KIP CLARK

To The Sounds of Marching Feet


I must go back, these years have held
Great lives and final words, all quelled
Beat desperately, the snow, her sheet
All lost to the sounds of marching feet


In progress, all their proper ends
Unto memories, your lifelong friends
Those caught within the heavy net
Or destined days, so bravely met


With this, then, I might change it all
The seas must rise, the skies must fall
In one, may lone survivor find
I leave no taken dead behind


Familiar loss, more frequent ache
Their visits in a life may take
So clench your fists and beat closed doors
I speak, surviving son, of yours


So tear, my life to stir, replace
Those caught within a mortal chase
To Destiny, as sets things right
Throw singeing flame and blinding light


The lone, of forests ravaged weak,
Now stands, a hope of beacons, bleak
Upon the remnants rests the woe,
The only thing which here, might grow


I've lost, I've made a grave mistake!
The horror holds me, faint, awake
Here all I ask, just take me back,
My faith, my past and all I lack


The marks, the scars, the broken glass
They cannot fade, they mustn't pass
Leave bare upon the timeless slate,
Each ridge and groove, a road to fate


Then grim, for not a hope remains
The slate of names is bled with stains
I see their disillusioned gaze,
Those trapped of time, deprived of days


So goes, as it has always been
Each breath to bring, each beat begin
And intertwine, to end and meet
All lost to the sound of marching feet