In Grisly Sand

Born with a promise of great success,
His youth was spent under martial duress

On far flung shores. He spent his teens
Watching the death of a million dreams.

He returned much wiser than his years,
Fought back a wellspring of bitter tears

Caused in part by his women's greed.
But more in the futility of planting seed

Whose fruit would die before its season
And for being unable to see any reason.

He volunteered for duty in a foreign land
And died violently in grisly sand.

He lies where he fell, a hero to all,
And I still feel his thunder
And I still hear his call.