"...Brushed"

Dawn this am. An early Nor'easter is tearing through the Emerald City. Rain winds hints of sleet. My windows rattle things skip bounce down the streets driven by this unexpected storm.
"One thousand shall fall at thy right ten thousand at thy left,....or words to that effect. "Yet no harm shall come thee."

Ain't that some Shit.

So many times I should have bought it, but didn't. Like some grunt at Troy Gettysburg Stalingrad or Hue. 
As my late Viet-vet brother said,... 

"Bullets fly by your head like pissed off wasps." 
"You don't give a fuck. You just do your job."

"You just do your job." You live your life till you don't. The Angel of Death has brushed by I don't know how many times.
Grabbing everyone but me. 

Till he does.

So wondering this dawn wondering the why, and what of my years. 
No there is no point not in the sense we need. 

We just live, and do.

Until we don't.