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March of the Ghosts

warm summer’s evening turned suddenly chilly

as the night wind blows strong from the east

a child sleeping is awakened by the sound

a sound like that of thunder

yet the night sky is clear

peeping through the window

the child gasps and stares

hundreds, maybe thousands

of beings unknown

march on to the night


they go on, unnoticed by others it seems

they sing a sad song

of a language long forgotten

they bring the mist with them as they pass

onwards to nowhere

forever marching forth

to a war that has ended

their curse, never lifted

they go on

peace, they try to find once more