A young boy used to play with bullets and grenade cases on the ground

Hearing sounds of gunshots in the distance

He ran his fingers through the ravaged dirt in bliss and innocence

Like there was no danger in existence

I hear the boy holler his story at dawn and dusk

He’d wait in line for a grain of rice to give his family of seven

The poor boy existed like wasted dreams

playing tag in a battlefield

His country wished for serenity

Untouched by clashing metal

He prayed under the empty midnight sky for a heeding star

to carry his dreams across the sea

It sailed him to a warless land

On his voyage, he met me.