Is this John Titor's poem???

Not it. This is what Titor said from www.johntitor.com

Question: Do you remember any poetry after 2001 in your past?

Titor's Answer:

A Soldier's Winter

The day before it wasn't snowing.

The trees are strangers, leering, disapproving in the ash of winter ..my world, my life, my wandering path.

I pray God's eyes may once again gaze upon me and remind me that I am still His child.

I only (think) I remember the first line but the last one I remember. It has quite a few more lines that I don't remember. It is rumored this was written first as a letter by a soldier. After he died it was added to and edited by others. In my opinion, it has become a symbol for the collective guilt my parents' generation feels for what became of the world.

A Soldier's Winter

The day before it wasn't snowing.
After amber suns made our Earth now glowing.

The trees are strangers, leering, disapproving
In the ash of winter, our minds are now moving

My world, my life, my wandering path.
It seems not God, but man's own wrath.

I pray God's eyes may us once again,
Gaze upon us at our end.

We will rebuild, we will renew,
From a world of greed and lust that left so few.

Remind me that I am still his child.
And provide us with your mercy mild.


Source: A Soldier's Winter, Spiritual Poem about Death [link to www.familyfriendpoems.com]
www.FamilyFriendPoems.com

That's a beautiful poem. Thank you for reposting it here. People are half-hazzardly storing archived data from the past now. Most of the websites I developed are now gone. That is why I urge all of you at GLP to scan, backup and preserve everything now. Our Internet history is our immortality!

THIS could be the Real One:

John Titor : "A Soldier's Winter" Poem from the Future



A SOLDIER'S WINTER
The day before it wasn't snowing.
The sun was hung like a hollow ball on a Christmas tree,
seeming dead and motionless, more a symbol than a living being.
Where had all the joy gone, when so sorely needed?
I reached out thinking if only I could touch and feel the familiar,
then all would be right once again, my memories restored.
The color was wrong. The once-yellow was now too blue.
The skies themselves were like a cold vampire, sucking.
The trees are strangers, leering, disapproving in the ash of winter
...my world, my life, my wandering path, had lost its way.
I felt so all alone, knowing what I knew, and seeing so clearly.
No one wants to share this vision; they all dance on,
Chanting a child's song, even as the music died.
When the joy was gone, they could still move on.
But now as robots, with zombie arms, and zombie legs,
And a zombie's dead heart, seeking heat, not love.
I could watch, but no longer join in, severed from their dreams.
I pray God's eyes may once again gaze upon me
and remind me that I am still His child.

Not bad.
Any soldier might feel cutoff from the warm
of human and religious civilization.
Especially in the winter

I'm just wondering why people obsess over secret songs and silly poems when Titor left us with a much larger message.

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