Quest’s End

	The quietness is abruptly interrupted by the monotonous growl of a vehicular
engine.  This vehicle is marked with the passage of time, and the elderly gentleman
behind the wheel also shows his age by the thinning of his hair and the loose flesh
hanging from his bones.
	As the car’s breaks squeal it to a halt; the elderly man steps out as though
emerging from one tomb to enter another.  As he looks upon his surroundings a feeling of
anxiety and welcoming slowly enters his soul.  The first thing visible is the wrought iron
gates hanging open welcoming visitors and residents.  The archway, along with the rest of
the fence, is marked with the blood of time, and the words, Cemetery, strike his soul as
though a revalation of his future is staring him in his weathered and withered face.  His
eyes then fall upon the trees exempt of leaves and holding no life, but still stand sturdy
and strong as though guarding the spirits of the outside from invading the peace of the
spirits on the inside, or maybe guarding the spirits on the inside from escaping?  Though
the man’s eyes are wet from sadness, he silently laughs at the question.  He wipes away
the tears with his skeletal finger and, with the cracking and woeful groaning of his joints,
starts his agonizing quest.
	The view on the inside is ironic to the old man.  The dead were laid to rest in
columns and rows as though it mattered to them that they be in order.  He kept walking
down the clean-cut path towards a destination he has visited frequently in the past month. 
He continually admires the clean-cut grass, even though he knows it is feeding off the
remains of loved ones long gone.  It was while he was contemplating this that he arrived
at his quest’s end.  As he arrived, things began to grow darker and more ominous.  It was
here where his wife and his life had left him.  And it was here where he would be found
throughout the past month kneeling and silently weeping.  But today was different; today
he knelt down and kissed his wife’s marker, and, moving so fluidly that water would be
jealous, rolled to his plot and laid on his back with his hand clutching his chest. In his
mind, he was watching the last setting sun with his wife lying next to him.  He was
watching his joyful memories fill the sky, and allowing his tears to shower the grass.  His
heart, realizing that it had fulfilled it’s purpose, finally allowed him his peace, and the
man’s chance to be with his wife once more.