The West Wall

A bit of analogic work...

standing
on the balcony there
her black dress
silhouetted against a black sky
starless
her hair hangs down
covers her face
she's looking down, at a deserted
moonlit field.
All is silent,
deathly
The balcony turns to a wall
we stand on top of it
looking down, at the battlefield
now red, covered in blood.
she looks up to me.
"What have we learned?"
I have no answer
"What has this changed?"
I know not what's been done.
She fades away,
I reach for her, grasping
a black rose falls from her hands,
she's gone.
I'm alone
I ask myself,
"What have I learned?"
To live in the moment.
Not to fear the future,
or cling to the past.
"What has this changed?"
Nothing.

I wake up.