Sunday, January 27, 2008

Chronicles: Remembering Myself (5)

I walk the tattered landscape that I once called home. "Home" how could I have been so foolish? I walk away from it in disgrace as my head hangs down, more so in disbelief than anything else. Who had I become? How could I have lost myself so easily? I kick at a root in the dirt only to be rewarded with a stubbed toe. Whatever I had kicked was no root. It was too hard to be that. I knelt down and dug my fingers into the earth. Working my fingers around the base of the object, it soon became apparent. "My old sword." The great weapon of might that helped me along my path so long ago. Now it is old and rusted. Its inlaid markings all filled with dirt and mold. A shadow of itself, much like I had become. I knew my shield could not be far away. A few feet away, I found my shield. I had become the base of an old gnarled weed, the roots twisting around it like a prison. I began to pull at the weed the the thorns were sharp and unexpected. The small stinging pain in my fingers threw me for I had forgotten what pain was like. It angered me. Looking at my old rusted sword, I raised it up and slashed at the weeds in anger. Once, twice, three times I swung at them, until finally after the third strike, a memory flashed through my mind. The sword, the shield, my quest. It all came back to me at that moment. These were not tools of war. These were a part of me. They were my very appendages, only forgotten for so long. The forth strike met its mark and cleaved the gnarled weeds clean from my shield. I picked it up, shook the earth from it, and placed it in it rightful place on my arm. It was now a part of me again, and I then began to remember who I was and why my fight was not over yet.

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Location: Kennesaw, Georgia, United States

26 year old that has lived in the Metro Atlanta area for the past 5 years. I aspire to do many things but normaly just default to doing as little as possible without getting into too much trouble... but it works.

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