fragrance of a lovely bouquet

so,
it's compassion you say,

this fragrance of a lovely bouquet
and now you're walking in a strange and unbelievably overgrown jungle
in the ever-present heat of a never-ending day
and making progress
(but you're not in the news)
you're taking a sip of warm water,
paying random pieces of communal dues to the rainbow of men surrounding you 

when suddenly you're covering for a buddy when the shit hits the fan,
hearing enemy bullets whizzing by while you're risking death,
listening carefully in a brief moment of unexpected quiet
for another draw of hurried breath
and then a sharp cry nearby for "Mother!" and an anguished cry for help;
a steady stream of piss;
the nearby explosion of a grenade,
and the ground shakes with an almost certain hit but a miss
and trails of fresh blood and faces smeared with sweat and anxious determination;
a man running in the shadows with a crazed yell,
his face distorted;
the overly fertile soil exuding an unfamiliar smell,
feeling scared, but angry as hell;
more men shot!
friends and buddies fighting like mad bees inside the craziest hive,
not simply scrambling to stay alive
but for the other,
man to man and brother for brother,
willing to lay life itself on the line:
it doesn't matter if this was part of an original design!
there's no monetary reward in sight,
it's simply to be together during the night
and in the ever-present heat of a never-ending day

so,

it's compassion you say,

this fragrance of a lovely bouquet, 

when infused with amazing mindfulness,

curiosity,

and appreciation for the ongoing simple things in life:

one another

brother to brother

sister to sister:

makes no difference who you are

how lucky, how fortunate

in this brief moment

full of uncertainty,

profound,

to be found

wishing upon 

the same bright star.