Oily Night

One one man dies another stands to take his place.

Just a thought:

So if, or rather when, in fear, I lie,
And shake,
Breathing deep,
A drop of sweat for each well meant mistook mistake.
I'll count my breath for a' least I can,
Not like the other well meant man,
Who covers himself in burning sand,
To hide himself from the mid day night,
As orange light dissolves his hands,
And burns his throat and melts his eyes yet,
There he sees in this oily night,
Another stand,
with no regret,
And move as told,
To the waddy's ridge,
And fight to build another bridge.