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Description
The Walking Man.

"You know, I never thought much of life. I never knew what it would bring, what it would reveal or what I'd have to go through. All I knew was that you were born, and died in the society you lived in. I always continued on, ignoring everything around me."

Well, that was often the way I had thought about things. Boats against the current, drifting on further, never looking back. But then again, those were the ways of the past. I remember, years ago. I had come to meet a man, this man that just seemed like a noble King. Yet, he was nothing. He had nothing. All he had was but friends. I remember because there was a time that he had talked to me. The words that he spoke, kind of rang out through my head.

"Out of all things in the universe that I could ever ask for? I'd ask for the gathering of those that I keep dear to myself. I don't require much, I don't even want to ask for much either. You gather to me, those that I care for, and I will forever and always be grateful."

Those words, they haunted me. All this man wanted, was but to have his comrades around himself. A king in his throne, sitting in his empty hall. Winds rustling about, back against the stone-cold floor. Empty, lifeless, alone. This was his fate, a lone King simply sitting upon his cold, everlasting stone throne of nothing. All the riches in the world, all the belongings and women he could want. Yet, he never wanted any of it. Years had gone by, and yet he was always the one to reach out. His life felt almost to that akin of a funeral. Slow, mournful and thoroughly impacting. He'd use all of his life, all of it, to no avail. Yet, he'd eventually pass with a smile. I always questioned why. The passing of your own life, yet smiling when you’ve all but spent your entire being and soul towards creating happiness for others.

Like the King, we stand in our halls. Empty throne rooms, cold and bloodied with our lives. The throne, our bubble. And the single moment we walk away from that bubble, we leave what we truly knew as ourselves. These winds of the current, blasting past our eyes the moment we open them. Our hearts, fluttering and beating with racing speeds. The gates that held us back, opening up as we see the world anew. The world, rebuilt. The happiness that this King wanted to create, wasn’t for himself. But in the end, it was all to leave a name behind. A name that’d allow others to remember the warmth that he gave. He wanted kindness to be something that lived within them all. A warmth like a fire, feeling at home even if you were falling down a wretchedly dark pit.

Standing here, smoking this cigarette. This half-lit cigarette that is yet to kill me. I can say, that maybe, just maybe , the King was us. Our wishes, our dreams. The wish to be loved, to be embraced. And endeared. The memories of a home, of a mother or father. That kindred spirit that everyone needed in their lives. All these years, he’d always preach of bringing people together. The company of those around him. Oh how lonely you must’ve been, noble King. Standing in your hall, with that cold throne simply staring at you. The days you brought forth, full of happy memories, but none for yourself. Yet, you still die with a smile. Glory and love, even in death. I always remembered when he’d stand outside. His hand reached on out to the fire. A smile upon his lips, almost broken. It felt as if he was looking out into the future His eyes and heart following a path of which would allow him a rite of passage. A warmth that’d allow him to say he did well. Nobody ever told him that, not even in the end. The only man that ever came, was myself and his oldest friend. Two people, out of hundreds. All to pay our respects to a man that spent all of his life for those around him.

I suppose, when I look back to it all. The noble King himself, was all but a wandering soul that beat on back against the current. Even when unfulfilled, he’d simply carry on. His hand reached on out, his heart beating and his eyes looking on out to the horizon. So, we carry on, paths of unknown, forcing through the waves of the sea. Constantly flowing.

Well, I suppose that’s what I will get. The memories of a King, for being a wandering man. Goodbye, King. You did well, you truly did. Now, it’s time for a new story. The story of the wandering man. Walking on forward, winds blasting against him. Like a hawk, he’d always soar, flying and soaring through the magnificently blue sky. Even in the darkest of days. An eagle, a wandering eagle, carrying on forward like the Kings of old.

Description
The Walking Man.

"You know, I never thought much of life. I never knew what it would bring, what it would reveal or what I'd have to go through. All I knew was that you were born, and died in the society you lived in. I always continued on, ignoring everything around me."

Well, that was often the way I had thought about things. Boats against the current, drifting on further, never looking back. But then again, those were the ways of the past. I remember, years ago. I had come to meet a man, this man that just seemed like a noble King. Yet, he was nothing. He had nothing. All he had was but friends. I remember because there was a time that he had talked to me. The words that he spoke, kind of rang out through my head.

"Out of all things in the universe that I could ever ask for? I'd ask for the gathering of those that I keep dear to myself. I don't require much, I don't even want to ask for much either. You gather to me, those that I care for, and I will forever and always be grateful."

Those words, they haunted me. All this man wanted, was but to have his comrades around himself. A king in his throne, sitting in his empty hall. Winds rustling about, back against the stone-cold floor. Empty, lifeless, alone. This was his fate, a lone King simply sitting upon his cold, everlasting stone throne of nothing. All the riches in the world, all the belongings and women he could want. Yet, he never wanted any of it. Years had gone by, and yet he was always the one to reach out. His life felt almost to that akin of a funeral. Slow, mournful and thoroughly impacting. He'd use all of his life, all of it, to no avail. Yet, he'd eventually pass with a smile. I always questioned why. The passing of your own life, yet smiling when you’ve all but spent your entire being and soul towards creating happiness for others.

Like the King, we stand in our halls. Empty throne rooms, cold and bloodied with our lives. The throne, our bubble. And the single moment we walk away from that bubble, we leave what we truly knew as ourselves. These winds of the current, blasting past our eyes the moment we open them. Our hearts, fluttering and beating with racing speeds. The gates that held us back, opening up as we see the world anew. The world, rebuilt. The happiness that this King wanted to create, wasn’t for himself. But in the end, it was all to leave a name behind. A name that’d allow others to remember the warmth that he gave. He wanted kindness to be something that lived within them all. A warmth like a fire, feeling at home even if you were falling down a wretchedly dark pit.

Standing here, smoking this cigarette. This half-lit cigarette that is yet to kill me. I can say, that maybe, just maybe , the King was us. Our wishes, our dreams. The wish to be loved, to be embraced. And endeared. The memories of a home, of a mother or father. That kindred spirit that everyone needed in their lives. All these years, he’d always preach of bringing people together. The company of those around him. Oh how lonely you must’ve been, noble King. Standing in your hall, with that cold throne simply staring at you. The days you brought forth, full of happy memories, but none for yourself. Yet, you still die with a smile. Glory and love, even in death. I always remembered when he’d stand outside. His hand reached on out to the fire. A smile upon his lips, almost broken. It felt as if he was looking out into the future His eyes and heart following a path of which would allow him a rite of passage. A warmth that’d allow him to say he did well. Nobody ever told him that, not even in the end. The only man that ever came, was myself and his oldest friend. Two people, out of hundreds. All to pay our respects to a man that spent all of his life for those around him.

I suppose, when I look back to it all. The noble King himself, was all but a wandering soul that beat on back against the current. Even when unfulfilled, he’d simply carry on. His hand reached on out, his heart beating and his eyes looking on out to the horizon. So, we carry on, paths of unknown, forcing through the waves of the sea. Constantly flowing.

Well, I suppose that’s what I will get. The memories of a King, for being a wandering man. Goodbye, King. You did well, you truly did. Now, it’s time for a new story. The story of the wandering man. Walking on forward, winds blasting against him. Like a hawk, he’d always soar, flying and soaring through the magnificently blue sky. Even in the darkest of days. An eagle, a wandering eagle, carrying on forward like the Kings of old.