What silent part is this to wake my sleep?

In wandering vast fields that rake and wave,

Beneath the rapid sky which seems to weep,

Finds the last hour and begs for more to crave.

Walking forward to a warm place of light,

Or am I to be dropped beneath the earth?

Standing as the timeless dawn takes its flight,

I envy the eternity in birth.

Nigh' is the wicked race against time,

But in the depthless mysteries of death,

While soundless bells of war still ring and chime,

There, children ponder life and what is left.

Though brief, the countless ways in which life stems,

Leave behind impressions of our phantoms.