I wrote this the day after a Jesuit priest taught me and my fellows in a high school-level Roman Catholic (my cradle religion) "Sunday school" about reincarnation, past life regression, human energy fields and how to feel/control them.
Talk about "Liberation Theology!"
Under his tutelage I remembered 5 deaths in battle, plus a young lady of my acquaintance who was in that class with me; I felt that we had been together in a previous life or two. To this day I will swear that a physical spark of energy exchanged between us that night. We were a natural fit, but life took us in different directions and we parted as friends.
She died several years ago, but I love her still, deeply.
I am lucky, for I had a second shot at true love. My wife and I have been together for the better part of 31 years (including the time we dated). I would be deadened without her.
I like to joke that I gave up the Church for Lent in 1975; here's one of the results.
Fragment from a Battlefield - 17 March, 1975
The waiting is the hardest part
The not knowing; the hanging time
The thoughts of clash and thoughts of crash
The thoughts of home and family
I look across the open field
At long dark lines of massing foe
The air is thick with stink of fear
But courage is, to duty do
The bugles blare , call the advance
The foe gives voice; an awful sound
My comrades march, then charge and fight
No brave man I, but fear is held
I keep my place by shieldman's side
The steely line comes straight at me
My life becomes this final act
To win and live, or lose and die
I was barely 18 years of age when I wrote this and new little, if anything, of life.