OK I've always liked epic poems like the illiad by homer, so heres a part of one i may right. I'm not to sure on the ending of this part tho.
The Man and The Boy sat across from each other, with the fire between them.
I watched from the side, just watching, never acknowledged, just watching.
The sun was down and the moon was up, the fire crackled, throwing sparks into the ominous trees above.
“What’s it like?” the boy asked in a shaky voice.
“Well the man said, its like trying to win the pot, with a jack high while everyone else is playing with a flush.”
“oh” said the boy; he was diminutive in stature, he sat holding his arms with his knees pulled to his chest, he had a haunted look in his eyes, like so many survivors of the forgotten wars. The man just smirked, he had a rugged look to him, leathery weathered skin, he’s definitely seen a few more things than the average man.
“Let me explain it like this friend,” the man said “Think of what Christ did, he carried that cross up that hill, and then they crucified him. This is my cross.” He gestured to his rucksack.
“Who’s going to crucify you when you get to the top of your hill?”
“Hmmm good question son, I think we just do it backwards, we get crucified first, then carry are cross till we find our hill”
The boy looked quizzically across the fire at the man. “wait, wasn’t what Jesus did a good thing?” The man lowered his head “fine boy, bad example” he sat down on the log across from the boy, and looked at him in a most painful, fatherly way. “Here, let me just show you.” He stood up and emptied the bag, to my amazement, an enormous rock fell out. The boy jumped up, wide eyed. The rock towered above the boy, “This is what we carry? I can’t even see over it?”
“Son, it gets easier…never lighter, just, you learn the little tricks to lever this sucker up and into the bag, so you can start your way up the hill.”
At that moment, right then, I understood it all. The man, the boy, the fire between, it all made sense! I, me, me now, I am the fire, that raging, chaotic, maelstrom separating the haunted damaged boy, and the strong rugged man, who seems to carry that burden so easily.
"Go then, there are other worlds than these"
-John 'Jake' Chambers
I'd rather be above the grass than below it.