Elysium

I walk these fields alone,
They use to be burning,
And stained of blood.
The bodies that fought and died,
Littering the ground with every step.
All I see through trees of green,
Blowing winds on vast meadows of grain,
That hue halos around the beauty,
Accentuated by a golden sunset.
Migrating into the empty beauty around me,
My memory is less of a brutal life before.
I wait upon the foothills of hope,
For loved ones who wait,
In the reality of fate.
I know not of triumph or glory,
Or what I and countless others fought for,
For generations beyond,
My body at rest I am at peace.