Posted by Colonel Muttonfield on November 17, 2013:

Each evening, he awakened to face the blur of twilight. Time seemed endless. Yet, he had lost so many years. Returning home from Vietnam, his hands were cold to the bone. He was often in a trance, neither awake nor asleep. He waited for an end which seemed never to come. Yesterday was a dream. The jungle was a dream. Honor was a dream. Last words became the same to him as the first. There was no difference between them, only time, only distance. Cold was the chill that ran up his spine with the thought of his future. For it was his to see yet not his to live. By the betrayals of others, his heart was made still within the stillness of time. And he was left alone to face the years. But his memories would not let him rest. So, let us ask. What if life returned to his limbs? What joy would he find? What if breath returned to his body? What meaning would there be? No longer must he face the day. Now he sleeps. But if he awaked, the nightmare would continue where it left off, in the twilight, in the jungle, in the growing darkness. Never again will he gaze upon life, or win it back in another time, or in another place. With his eyes now closed, the blur of evening is replaced with dimming visions of a life now gone. He says goodbye to this life as he first did long ago, night after night, eternally.

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