Two more weeks, to cradle loved ones in our arms, hold them so closely, nearly breaking them. Two more weeks, to sort out the family finances, fix the brakes on the 4X4, see a soccer game or two. Out to nowhere, to do nothing, to utter not a sound. To gaze upon a lucky soul, to bond with five other lonely ones. Mission begets mission.
Success begets success.
Life goes on, self-reflection and soul searching become a regular routine. To survive, long enough to propagate the continuance of the human species. To go to any higher level is to force one to believe we each have a divine reasoning. We are not gods, but men. We shed blood red and warm.