WWII

The soldier just lost it.
A bullet here and a bullet there,
a shot fired in the air.
Shrapnels and metal exploding everywhere.

It was hard to stay awake.
It was too easy to go to sleep.
He could just run away .
But where?

"What was it for anyway?", he asked an imaginary futurist.

World War.
World War II.

He wondered how it would all end!
It was still the 5th of August 1945.

"Seriously though", he thought, "this was getting sickening."
It didn't seem like this in the very beginning.
"Do the others feel this way too?"
"What about that guy over there, shooting away the machine gun with random precision?"

Another shell from the air and his leg was gone.
Slowly, piece by piece each part of his body left its living force, writhing in the ashed dirt.
Blood red everywhere.
There was a strange energy in the air.
As if some evil face in the sky was plucking away strings -
driving a puppet show on the killing fields.

He remembered the last time he had heard music.
It was last night in the tent - Glen Gould playing Goldberg Variations.
How it had taken him to a different place, where the skies were blue and the trees still green.

His head fell off.
His mind could still be....a brief moment of eternity

The notes of the music got louder.
The sounds of the bombs and bullets began to fade.
The sky got clearer.
The trees bore leaves.

Death was beautiful...indeed.