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+--- Thread: Honeyed Pasture the end. (/showthread.php?tid=53530)
the end. - RIP Evermore - December 05, 2022
it was a good run evermore, now it is time to lay you to rest
evermore had not lived up to much in her life.
these days it was hard to quantify what truly a life meant to someone. something that seems too simple, universal, and neverending -- and now it was all going away. she was dying, she's been dying for several weeks now.
evermore has not been present in many moons, her body has been hung out to dry. fleas, ticks, a stench that never quite went away, and the severe sign of undernourishment. the soul had left, evermore certainly lamented her demise in the end. and for moments she had to wonder if her death was in vain, driven by anger instead of a path of light and forgiveness.
perhaps she should have stayed within the ridge, where her family was. at least she would have been safe there within their embrace. instead, her body is damaged, bleeding, and running out of time.
perhaps this death was fitting for her. it proved that evermore broke the curse of fear within her bloodline. instead of cowering from others and the risks that life offered, the woman had always tried to face them head-on. in the end, this was the final straw to break the camel's back. and one would be left to think: what a waste, perhaps if you're a pessimist. or, perhaps they may think: she did her best.
that was always the goal at the end of the day, to do her best.
her body has stopped running, the blood continues to pool in the snow around her. there were once flowers in this meadow. there were once flowers that bloomed in evermore. but perhaps, they would again, when the snow melts and the earth takes back what it is owed.
a soft cry escapes her. the snow keeps falling and covering her. no one will know she died here. no one may remember her name, her face or her legacy. but perhaps that was never the point of living, to begin with.
evermore had not lived up to much in her life.
these days it was hard to quantify what truly a life meant to someone. something that seems too simple, universal, and neverending -- and now it was all going away. she was dying, she's been dying for several weeks now.
evermore has not been present in many moons, her body has been hung out to dry. fleas, ticks, a stench that never quite went away, and the severe sign of undernourishment. the soul had left, evermore certainly lamented her demise in the end. and for moments she had to wonder if her death was in vain, driven by anger instead of a path of light and forgiveness.
perhaps she should have stayed within the ridge, where her family was. at least she would have been safe there within their embrace. instead, her body is damaged, bleeding, and running out of time.
perhaps this death was fitting for her. it proved that evermore broke the curse of fear within her bloodline. instead of cowering from others and the risks that life offered, the woman had always tried to face them head-on. in the end, this was the final straw to break the camel's back. and one would be left to think: what a waste, perhaps if you're a pessimist. or, perhaps they may think: she did her best.
that was always the goal at the end of the day, to do her best.
her body has stopped running, the blood continues to pool in the snow around her. there were once flowers in this meadow. there were once flowers that bloomed in evermore. but perhaps, they would again, when the snow melts and the earth takes back what it is owed.
a soft cry escapes her. the snow keeps falling and covering her. no one will know she died here. no one may remember her name, her face or her legacy. but perhaps that was never the point of living, to begin with.