Beneath the Snow

He walked through towns of fallen glass. The smoke of years behind

his past. A letter torn, a glove of lace. He carried ghosts

he couldn't face. But through the wind, the church bells

cry like voices born to sanctify. The soldier and the snow collide.

He drops his gun, the storm subsides. He kneels where Christmas candles glow.

And finds his heart beneath the snow. He hears a song from children's

choirs. Their voices bloom like small desires. No war,

no hate, no flag, no fight. Just simple hands