At the military cemetery

 

At the military cemetry, I am struck

by the myriad patterns of the crosses;

marvelling at the precision over and

over as I walk into new perspectives.

In death, the soldiers in this postumous

parade still creating the most beautiful,

mathematically correct symmetries.

The precision: clean, uniform, orderly;

identical crosses stretching into the

distance to the glory of the dead, to the

glory of the army. Individuality un-

observed; humanity absent; an army

of stones.