He understood that his was not to be an
honorable death.
With what he had done, seen and lived
through, honor was an ocean away. Lost.
No, all he wished for was a 'good death'.
He counted and compared, numbers sliding
one into the other. There is no quantifying
deeds; good or bad. Falling to the floor he searches
and comes away with empty hands.
He leaves behind 'soldiers'.
They are in good stead and no longer needed
his direction.
Goodbyes are unnecessary, he will not be far.
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