There in the open field of carnations
Away from the rest of his kind
Stood still one of God\'s lone creations
Maybe, perhaps death was on his mind
Standing tall, head held up so high
With the peace of the world under tread
One could even look straight in his eye
Just as the bullet ripped open his head
A time later, I stood alone in the street
Away from the rest of mankind
With the peace of the world under feet
Pondering if my time is duly divined