When a warrior lies bleeding on the battlefield he does not scream: "Make a song or statue for me." He screams for a woman, but it is not his dark mistress. The young warrior will look into the blue skies with tears in his eyes. The boy given a gun will be forever remembered. But for him he knows what awaits: the darkness. He screams the familiarly haunting words that a four year old boy might say after scraping his knees
"I want my mom...."