Lamentations of an old soldier taking his last walk

The old soldier takes the same circuitous route every morning while always hoping to find a golden gem which can enrich his existence and give him a legitimate reason to get up tomorrow.

When he looks around, he sees the beauty that nature presents to him while he meanders and stumbles down the path he calls his life.

Inside are his memories that he cherishes but which are becoming murkier and more silent every day.

He doesn't like staring straight ahead. He wants to find some kind of light, some kind of hope that may be hidden there. But, he knows that the flickering light that he feels but doesn't quite see will only grow dimmer with each passing moment.

He knows that the end may be just beyond that next bend in the path. Just beyond the junipers and crepe myrtles.

But, he has reconciled himself to the knowledge that with total darkness comes the release of all pain, even the psychological hurt which mangles his brain every second.

He will be free...any minute now. But, somehow, he can't face up to that change in existence. Instead, he wants to hold on to what he has, even though his collection of pluses are devoured by the myriad minuses.

So, he'll continue down that road today and start again tomorrow. But, eventually, his gait will become infinitely small.

And, the neurons in his brain will no longer create the consciousness that he loves to hate.

He will still exist for a little while...in the memories of those who crossed his path.

But, he won't be.