It must never be your goal,
even as a faithful soldier
to be at a standstill
and chew the world's wreck,
doing absolutely nothing but
watching yourself drift into extinction;
those who do with all temerity
always ache for those exciting places
that they will never visit.
 
Act, like there’s no tomorrow,
or today, the end of your life,
and banish the moody horror;
let not the slicing knife of comfort
grip you like a climbing flower,
lulling you into a coma
or cuddle you like a child
with the beauty of its fragrance.
 
When you fly away
to sate your lust for victory
through the dark rivers of Bournemouth
 and the hot sands of the North Sea
or stroll through the waves of the Atlantic
or meander on the Mediterranean rocks
 when you dream of beauty
in these enchanted places,
it would help if you made it come true,
and your name will be on these lines
written on the walls of time.