The Desert Of A Grudge
The sand hails its presence with a mighty wind. The sounds of tumble weeds bristle along the desert stones as rough hands hold to cold steel. fingers grip with intensity, as brass is sent into a chamber for its final descent into flesh.
The sun sits high in the sky with a ghostly silhouette between the horizon and clouds. Its heat scorches with envy, as if jealous to never step foot upon land.
And as the sun hangs in its envious state, two men steel for steel, stare with much grim. Their faces scuffled and dry from the harsh desert heat. Their lips cracking from the absents of hydration. Their teeth tinted in yellow from cigars and whiskey.
And though they stand ready to die, neither wavers in fear. No trembling of hands, no anxious welts appear upon their face. Their eyes steady in the moment, ready for the end, ready to commit to the hands of death.
All is silent in this moment as the two stare with no intent to move any further. Vultures sit atop a cactus in anticipation for the indulgence of what will be left.
Vengeance coats these men like syrup. Sluggish is the beat of their heart, as they weigh to the sorrow they pridefully bury. Neither men hold any regard for their existence, but to fly on the wings of death. To bring the end to those who plant the seed of resentment.
And in this vengeful moment they hold steady, and fingers, limber for the grab as their steel sits worn from the battles of threat.
Suddenly their eyes become hollow in life, a vulture calls to their death.
Fingers race to steel, eyes fixated upon the other, tongues dry. Steel raised and steel cocked, brass freed from its chamber.
Death has come today in the mouth of revenge, one has lived to the battle of steel. But only to fall to the fever of the sun.
Foolishly, they allowed others to tend to their seeds.
Have you ever held a grudge for too long, doing what ever you could to get back at someone? I know I have and regret the waste of life upon doing so.
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