The battlefield was silent for it was now a field of blood and a field of death. The ground was scattered with the remaining hatred and a will to live that seeped out of the long dead bodies.
The battlefield which was once a beautiful field filled with the daily whisperings of the wind was now…dead. Dead, like the bodies that lay on the ground.
Dead like the hatred that fuelled the foes which once stood face to face. Dead like the lives of those who have passed. The sun no longer radiated heat as it hid behind the darkening clouds.
The wind howled in misery at the sight that it encountered. And somewhere far away from all of this a heart shattering cry could be heard.
No, not one cry but thousands of cries joined together in one single song of misery. Those cries were the mothers and fathers that would never see their children.
The brothers and sisters that would never see their siblings. But for some that did not matter. What mattered was the hatred that was still burning inside them.
The desire that constantly pricked their hearts, begging them to pick up the weapon. To march again. To fight again. And therefore…wars still go on. But we must learn from them.
We must learn that all they ever do is spread chaos and devastation across the whole world.
But for now, the wind still blew in sorrow and the clouds darkened as the rain began to drop down like the bullets that have showered onto the ground below.
And still, no life came to the bodies that lay sprawled in the battlefield below. The battlefield was now a silent river of death that crawled into the escaping souls of the bodies below.
But we will remember them. That is something that even death cannot take away.