\"Our bodies earth, our thoughts are clay\"
Such spoke the soldier once, when young,
And all that was his youth was spent,
In spaces lacking light, and oft unsung.

\"Our bodies earth\" he said, and meant,
That land that was broken, where nothing stood,
But filled and haunted by men that used to live,
Those that smiled and said, \"the world is good\".

\"Our thoughts are clay\" he said, and spoke,
Of the matter that hid the joy of minds,
And brought our conscience to the other place,
Which causes all those \"drawing down of blinds\".

He talked with knowledge of the world unseen,
To those who live in harmony, and safely bend,
Their thoughts upon believing in \"the Romance of War\"
And that suffering with warmth and nobility can blend.

But few men listened, and instead the smoke rose on,
And filled the charcoal dreams that folly nurse,
And whisper in the night of Glories yet undone,
But all-deceiveing, and destined as a curse.

So bodies turned to earth, and thoughts transformed to clay,
Tell me what it\'s for, if you may?