Arilington National Cemetary
Photo: June 17, 2004 by Anthony W. Pahl
DESTINY
Time flies when you're having fun
So it seems to appear to some
The days and months drift swiftly by
Not thinking about the where or why
Seasons come and seasons go
First the spring and then the snow
The autumn leaves so crisp and bright
Fall to earth upon the dead of night
They lay piled upon the ground
Winds blowing briskly making crackling sounds
Frosty mornings make for hearty souls
Breath blowing crystals during the morning stroll
Winding roads through fields of stone
That God-awful feeling of being alone
Footprints crunching upon sacred ground
Creaking trees are the only sounds
The mind dims and the memory fades
Thoughts once flourishing no longer parade
And the drums grow silent near the amber grass
While reaching for the marker just beyond my grasp
The epitaph read, "This Marine served well
He left his home and family, to serve in hell
He fought not for fortune, nor fleeting fame."
Then as I touched the stone I saw my name
Was I truly the last to know?
Was this the destiny of the autumn stroll?
Could this be, am I insane?
Did I live my whole life in vain?
I stood bewildered upon the grave
Not wanting to run, not wanting to stay
Then others like me gathered round this place
I saw more than one familiar face
Countless friends lost in a war torn land
I hugged their necks I shook their hands
We formed our ranks and we stood up straight
And then marched a-shoutin' through the pearly gates