That morning on the battlefield
From smelly puddles of fog
Down in the damp trences
Heavy rain falling from above
They try to keep the gunpowder dry
Wearing only monochrome decorations on chest
Bayonets held high
No picture of family or beloved in pockets
Restless ghosts of unknown origin
Get together for a game of solitaire
Before the signal to attack.
Crippled apparitions, endlessly fighting the other side.
Against them,
Demons and angels, devils and saints
Shaking hands together
Losing the war of illusions