Slipping through the worlds final days, with his head hung low and his hart filled with fear. He looks down at his own two feet amazed at the fact that he is still moving. Knowing full well what is in front of him. His mind looks back on his time, and travels. Chuckling at the good times and crying at the bad he relives the most pivotal moments in his life. But still he keeps himself form the fact. That his feet no matter how long he keep walking he will have to turn around and head back. To his home for a small moment. To get his grading and recommendation for hie next move. Like a piece on a chess board. They stand refined and polished for a second. From the box to the board they are set up and them moved standing proud they cling to no revelries and no enemies are made till their first meeting. The one piece knocked off the board and the first blood being spilt. Sadly enough the cries of his comrades go unheard to the deaf ears of the overseers the ones with the mind of power and the orders. And like kings of old they have little regard for the peons out front as they move them first and keep them on the offensive even went they get tired and broken. Still they must press on. Keeping in ties with the kings demands soon they will ether meet their friends end or get a small rest. Or even grater than this they may be promoted, rased above all for a knight, bishop, rook, or a queen. To continue on in the defense of their king, praying that the mind behind the war horse knows what they are doing.
But not all things can be compared to a game fo chess. Or one fo risk, with luck and strategy playing a big part in its own right. But life is no game, in real life people get hurt. People die, and suffer for real. The matters of change do not happen within an instant. And the armies might may be turned in the simple fact of a flue, bug or deadly virus spreading across the camp. Killing like a ghost. Freely and with out remorse keeping on its onslaught till a cure is found in the body. Still my life can not be compared to this soon I might know why I might not. But at least this much is clear the ride has been one of the best I have had. Their I stood. On the brink of oblivion and thinking that joy and plusher was better than anything later I jumped and fell down I plunged for a few seconds but soon I hit a small out cropping. Looking up with a bloodied eye I called for a rope and it was tossed. Gripping on I started to clime. And still I thought of the physical plusher and not of what the bridge in the distance held for me. In its crossing I knew not what was waiting for me across the caesium. Still I let go and fell once again and impacted on the ledge. The rope still hangs a few feet up above me. All I must do is clime and grip on tight. Work with my feet and let my companion pull me up to the crest let go of my need for a quenched lust and just live life worthy of a wife and family.
“ you need not be ashamed.” they say
“fear not for he will help you” they preach.
“Ask and ye shall receive” it reads.
But the one crucial part that they all ‘forget’ to mention is the ones thirst. To ask, to not feel ashamed but hope full, to have courage in the darkest of times. But still hells fires creep up the walls and caesium slipping into the air sending forth a choking cloud of temptation letting him know, your body will work as long as you let it work. Wether it be against you or for you it is your call.
 morti_cacciatore · Fri Nov 10, 2006 @ 03:58am · 0 Comments |
