Crossing the Treshold

I lay there, stiff in the lake of my blood.
The pain had consumed my fear.
My mother's faint voice was all I could hear.

Flashed before my eyes a train of images,
Of those loved,
Like an artist's hasty sketches.

I was dying for my country
I had no regret
It's where I'd learnt to tread.

In spite of it all,
I was proud,
Even death could not make my spirit fall.

I knew the pain had begun to cease.
Forever the chapters of my life was about to fold.
I was finally crossing the treshold.