I miss the colors.

Purple, red and green

Everything you could dream of and more.

Back home they are all grey.

Grey, brown or black.

Gone is the wonder in this winter.

Ice and snow cover the ground yet it does little to amaze me.

I miss the burning sand beneath my feet, the dunes and the open ocean.

Another sundown.
I must have seen a million by now.
God knows I’ll see a million more.
Roaming this barren land, incapable of emotion and unable to die. Each passing day only works to prolong my pain. I have lost the ability to see beauty in and around me. Once a man has seen his millionth sunrise he suddenly stops seeing them. Actually seeing them. He becomes blind to what once was beautiful and his heart stops caring. There is nothing but a long tiresome ride. Back and forth forevermore.

A ride without reason and a man without meaning.

A tale as old as time.

The dead and dying lie here in the thousands.

In rows they cry out to their supposed saviors in one last effort to believe. A choir of godless men howling toward the heavens, hoping to be heard.

The field upon which they cry has a foul stench to it. An all too familiar smell of blood, sweat and ignorance. In the distance a soldier crawls to find his foot and hugs it as if reunited with an old friend. Something resembling hope floats through the air, only to fly away and leave the poor soldier stranded in his solitude.

The real horror is what’s happening inside the minds of these petty little boys whom now realize they’ve been played. Inside their skulls they are experiencing the very last realization to hit a dying man before his downfall. The one that no living being has yet to escape from. Knowing that the clock has run its course and there is nothing behind the closed curtain. Nothing for the man who cannot convince himself that there is someone behind all this pain. Nothing for the poor soul who was never told there is an option. Nothing for us who want to believe but cannot.