Thursday, January 19, 2012

What Follows Will Prevail

As he stared at me without hesitating once to blink, I knew what it was he was feeling. I reminded myself that I'm dead and that nothing would ever change; but still, I held this undesirable feeling caught in my stomach. I could see him, but he couldn't see me. My brother whom I looked up to, is now looking down at me. He placed the flowers on top of my headstone, saddened. Despaired. And revoked.

I wanted to reach towards him, letting him know that I will always be around him, in spirit and in thought. But my lifeless, colorless, transparent body just hovered over the grave. I was, what I used to call, standing. The beautiful reach-filled green grass seemed to even weep for my brother. The morning dew gave a shimmer to the field, and being the one of many objects with a name in stone, was lost. He knew where I was however. He saw that out of the hundreds of graves, mine stood out. A vast open field left to bury the dead and mourned. It is hard to move on, but it's even harder to leave.

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