Somewhere back in primitive lands lies an arrowhead That juts out of the ground whittled out of stone Who knows which end is down? The old warrior walks up the path his forehead streams with sweat The blazing sun beats down on him but he doesn't notice he's wet He stops silently, gazing at the sky shielding his eyes with his hand he doesn't notice anything even his feet sifting the sand The old warrior's mind is somewhere else he stares out toward sandbars absently he fingers his side running his hand over his scars His children are gone, scattered to the wind with families of their own leaving the old warrior in his element fighting the wars alone. The old warrior turns to go Suddenly the sun seems too close there is no else around it seems too hot for most He touches his forehead, and the sweat is like blood streaming down his face for the first time he notices he seems to be in space Slowly he shuffles away from the water which beckons invitingly it would seem the old warrior isn't holding to his plea He looks down at the arrowhead and then he feels it hit the war is over the warrior consigned this pit His knees buckle, as if he took a cyanide pill he falls on the arrowhead and all is seemingly still His last view is of a memory of his final earthly bed then a veil drops over his vision and his eyes roll up in his head They stand over him the younger warriors worship one looks out toward the horizon and notices it dip They bow to the old warrior and watch his soul climb and then they show him the respect he's earned one last time.
Reason for writing:
It's an allegory...and a really easy one to decipher.
Birth sign: Aries
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