The conquering army

I was still and silent. I felt his force, tasted the metallic coldness of his rifle in my mouth. My vomit came in violent waves, blood and bile. His heavy breathing and sweat were pathetic, tears were streaming down my face as I understood the mindless banality of wickedness. I pitied the young soldier plagued with the errors of the conquering army. All they've won is the earth saturated with a cosmic sense of loss and their own infirm, transient bodies. When I was younger I knew God was alive because I sensed him in the changing of the seasons and the regeneration of barren seed. Now I experience Him even more directly in the violence of the young soldier and the transcendence of his brutality.