Lines written after hearing the Last Post Ceremony at the Menin Gate, Ypres

I can't see, but that doesn't matter to me
Because here in this marble microcosm, we
Are joined as one.
One memory growing and branching
Holding these Lost Boys in our mind
The Last Post staggers on, overarching
The crowd, one song for all mankind.
Pale buds of the dead have seeded the walls
I read them looking for one I know
So many names that have ceased to appall
By some forlorn lines, brave poppies show.
The old Boys totter on by, backs bowed by age
Their blue coats pressed and well-maintained
Still marching after all these years
Though their medals may be sour blood-stained.
At Paschendaele or old Tyne Cot
They lie, bone on bone, untouched by sun or rain
In the morning and when the sun goes down
They live again.

Hopeful.