Digging deep for the moments that pictured his past,
Counting the metal that ricocheted into his body,
Crawling away to the sun-shades that shielded his presence,
Planting the flag of victory over the crimson rivers,
Saluting to those whose ashes sanctified the glory,
Bowing sun brought him back to this world.
Digging the grave is the unnamed soldier,
Smiling at passer-bys on this unmanned land.
Digging the grave is the unnamed soldier,
Sweeping the dust of the unlaid stone.
Reminiscing the days of youth that were frozen,
Strolling away towards the never-ending horizon,
Chasing the dream of catching the burning sun,
Building a fortress vacillating over the billows,
Crumbling were stairs that led to his castles,
Creeping beacons signaled a turbulent dawn.
Shaping his tomb is the unnamed soldier,
Sculpting the curves of an unknown beast.
Shaping his tomb is the unnamed soldier,
chiseling the edges of his uncarved mind.
Maligning are the blessings that time had showered,
Aligning is his family in the skies above.
Turning to those pages that were tainted in his book,
Tearing them apart to lay them as his mattress,
Swallowing his agonies for pride that stood immortal,
Burying his past with himself in the grave.
Climbing the ladder is the unnamed soldier,
Dreaming his future in the unseen world.
Climbing the ladder is the unnamed soldier,
Warring with forces of unknown strength.
Climbing the ladder is the unnamed soldier,
Mirroring his pride from his deceased world.
