The ancient warrior stood on the hill
Overlooking his village
The cold ate into his bones
It permeated every injury
Reminding him of every battle
Every widow he’d made
Every child rendered fatherless
And he knew it was his time.

He recognised the look every dog had
When it could barely stand or walk
Asking him to take its body
Now he could barely stand or walk
From leader to barely seen
From influencer to ridiculed
So much experience he could pass on
But younger ears are deaf
They tell him
He doesn’t understand
The world’s not like it anymore.

And yet generation after generation
Keep making the same mistakes
Those that can see it
Are considered demented
And don’t understand the circumstances
But they have the vision
To see the heart rather than the circumstances
His experience could be invaluable
But in fact was ridiculed.

He can’t fight anymore
He’s too tired to argue
His scars bear testament to his experience
Each one painfully earned
His body pleading to be laid to rest
His heart empty
His journey finished
It was time for his soul to rest.

Another library lost to the world
As it returns to the Tao.
By Steve Rowe