The line of bodies whirling around the hill. Each face painted with a mask of fear, each limb tied up with the rope of cruelty!

Waiting, so gently waiting…

Far ahead, the red tongue of the glowing fire licks the arch of the fatal door!
The owl of the wind carries the ashes, grey misty rain falling over their ghostly frames. Breathing before expiring the dust of their Sybil!
Every second, getting closer to the demons!

The line of bodies whirling around the hill, are cover with thick shadows.
The divine aura somehow, cannot pierce through the warm ashen clouds…
Sometime, the cry of a child stabbed the everlasting night and tears drop, brief sadness, filling their shaky being with a touch of peace…
Soon, to be murder again by terror!

Waiting ever so softly…Agnus Dei

Agnus dei, qui tollis peccata mundi,
Dona eis requiem

Libera me, domine, de morta aeterna
In die illa trementa.

Lamb of God, who takest away the world` s sins, grant them rest.
Deliver me, o lord, from eternal death in that awful day.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

part 2 of a poem about War 2 and Hilthler.

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