So Long, Farewell
It's the end. I can taste it. It's no longer something in the future; the reality of it more tangible than ever. I turn to stare at its once beautiful face, now withered and ugly. And I weep. Oh, how I weep! Its bodice; scarred and rough, proof of when it had stood, unmoving, suffering blow after blow. Despite the agony, it had stood tall, as far as possible. Yes, admittedly, there were times when it had bent so low, I swear it would break. I even anticipate hearing the crack, louder than thunder, and I close my ears to it. But it surprises you, it does. For it does not break. It has weathered storms, ceaseless rain; thunder and lightning have both left their mark on it. Marks that are sometimes not even visible to the naked eye; that are not merely on the surface, but are cuts and wounds that are too deep for any one person to see even with closer inspection. I sit thoughtful, reflective, at its feet. I close my eyes to better concentrate on what was important.