An eagle soars over a river,
The blood red sky reflecting in its eyes.
It circles a graveyard of shattered dreams,
And lands on a banner strewn on the bloody ground.

The huge amber eyes intensely look about,
As the sun glimpses the battlefield.
Its piercing cry is one of sorrow,
Intended for not the dead but the living.

For humankind is its own enemy,
Every being in danger,
From its own destructive mind,
And its strong resistance to peace.

As morning slowly turns into dusk,
As day turns into years, into centuries,
The eagle still mourns the living,
Waiting, waiting to be found.