As the Clouds

As he lay dying on the cold, hard ground, he thought to himself, "What was my life?". And as he lay, his thoughts travelled back to a better time. To a young child playing in a golden field of long grass, each blade lit like a flame in the glorious light of the summer sun. A sweet breeze sweeps across the golden plain, it carries the seeds of flowers across the sunlit waves of grass. The boy would lay upon his back and shape the clouds in his mind's eye. So innocent was the child, so pure of mind and heart. The delicate balance of nature held within the spirit of his heart, and the love of everything good. The child then grew, and as he grew, he started to see more of the world around him. Among the many towers of light and glass, amongst the many nomads and winding roads we find him again, ball in hand, a high iron hoop set upon a great pole in a park. He would spend hours at play, in this place of concrete, and metal. Wether he could help it or not, many times he found himself gazing as the cars streaked by. He would often find himself wondering where they are going, and why they need to get their so quickly. He ponders this only for a moment, then he goes back to his ball, to his play. We then travel from that land, and now see him much older, and wiser, but yet naive. He sees around him the imperfections of the world around him, of the corruption, seduction, and greed. Though he cant help but see the world needs change, he finds it hard to be indifferent. We find him in an open lot as he sits in his car, his best gal at his side. Beautiful, young, and perfect in his eyes. He loves her, this much he knows for certain. And as they sit, he finds that her hand begins to gently carress him in that sacred place of pleasure. He has known these pleasures, and knows it well. He cannot help to think of the consequences, the guilty pleasures, and the question of why, but he falls prey to the temptations, as he always has. He sees how much love, hate, and jealousy effect the world around him, but he cares little, and sometimes, not at all. We now travel again from that place see him in a single file line. Crowded, hot, and cramped, he waits. Young men, all dressed in green, awaiting the cold piece of metal and wood that will serve them in combat, their life support, their own personal protection, their saviors. Hes given a heavy pack, sparce rations of food, and a slap in the face, he knows not why he made this choice. He learns to fight, to love the man next to him like his own brother, and his rifle even more so. He marches with his rifle, eats with his rifle, sleeps with his rifle, he knows it well. They go to war together, to the vast jungle on the other side of the world. He quickly sees this world is one of darkness, of regret, of pining. They pine for better times, for the loves they left behind, for the days of innocence. He bares many hardships, him and his rifle. It is now that he sees the darkness of humanity, as he sees a many headed beast of flesh, metal, and fire engulf him and his brothers like a wave. He fights this beast, his rifle laying many down before him. But his rifle soon fails him, and he soon finds he has been bitten by the flaming metal teeth of the beast. His breath escapes him, he falls back, almost in a daze. He lay staring through the trees, on the jungle floor, and he again shaped the clouds. As he slowly slipped away, he knew. It was as the clouds.