A small child, golden hair, curling down smiling cheeks, her favorite toy clutched in her arms. A warm home, loving arms filled with protective hugs. Laughter echoing through hallways, as the sky darkens.

The music of life is cut off by the flash, an all enveloping whiteness, purity it seems. The flash, ripping away all memory, all smiles, all frowns, all chance of more pattering steps on sunny walkways. Followed by the most powerful sound of an innocent life, stealing harsh words, along with final goodbyes. No more conflict, no more grace, no more sympathy. The fire comes, washes away the sorrow of broken toys, creating an inferno of homes, of flesh, of blood, of life.

The same child now, dirty tears mingling with her darkened curls. Footsteps muffled by the ash of destruction, stumbling through tall dark buildings, the afternoon sun setting ablaze once more the peaceful, silent world. She walks on, her torn bear lost in the fury. A last silent, mourning cry, a prayer to an unknown god for forsaken souls. Her small body creating the softest beat in the violent song of war, the least important, the unnoticed, child, losing the beat of her heart to the silent flow of time, forgotten.

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