I stand here along the front-lines and trenches of the Great War. I just stand in honour, in sadness, just stand and cry softly for the carnage and hell that happened here almost one hundred years ago. I am reduced to an irrelevant speck of nothing compared to the enormity of the killing and suffering that happened here beneath my feet, in the trenches of mud and death. As far as the eye can see, cemeteries dot the landscape, just white gravestones; crosses and gravestones in ten, sixty, one hundred thousand rows. Row upon row of white stones —-thousands of them known only to God. I kneel down and place my ear to the ground and listen. I listen to the sound of holy ground. All around me the wheat fields rustle and above in the blue sky the jets crisscross each other. All seems quiet now on the Western Front.
photo: Menin Gate (left), Tyne Cott Cementery (middle) and Hooge Crater Cenetery (right).