Invisible

There is a lullaby as gentle as a storm. In it there goes a hush of abeyance. They pace in marches     with pristine apathy and in each footprint their walk evanesces into something… not even a shadow could follow.                 Memories displaced, now rings the ballad of their story. Their bodies eclipsed with bellicose machinery, and where’s the world?     Are they practicing stoics? Perhaps if we look hard enough we will see the vestige of smiles and their accomplices of tempered laughter. But what we find are little warriors marked as young veterans            Their once instilled innocence whispers in a hoarse voice, “Why would humanity be such a neglectful mother and let her children play with guns and act as soldiers?”