He never knew it would end this way with the present of friendly banter and comradarie, yet there he lay to rise no more, no more
a procession of days of years of minutes, the seconds passed by at that moment; helpless as the thick red blood slowly dripped from the wound, all in the name of hatred, of love.
Yet they were mistaken,
They knew not that they killed their brother
their brother, a friend
all out of hatred, of love
The numbing shock, the swallowing grief were emblems remaining of violence. The questions remained, the questions became the formless void unrelenting.
In the silence lay the answer, the stillness of the heart
who will reveal it? Who?