In a lucid out-of-body dream
I really smelled the stench of war. 
Felt the inky mud beneath my feet -
Touched its slime between my fingers
So slippery, slick, ground so smooth -
Knowing it was a concoction of death;
A soup of blood, piss, shit and worse.
Now in the trench rose just the steam
From all our nervy heaving chests -
Newly chaste, now cleansed by prayers -
All of us trying to control trembling
Fingers and our thumping sickened hearts.
In between the distant thunder blasts
A demonic bawl fresh cleaves the air
And a static fear descends once more,
Fear as palpable as the air we breath.

An instant flashback to days of yore

Tingles the skin of my scalp and neck

Whilst flicking images force me to
Witness a stretchered Brit who gasps
his final bloody convulsive breath
then falls silent in the grip of death.
So we fall silent in prayer again.
All our Gods have heard these prayers

A hundred million times before,
And being free of this earthly time
Extend their unconditional love
Waiting for mankind's awakening
To the utter futility and waste of war.

Their patience is nothing but amazing.