They Will Lead Us someday
The young man stared into the crackling flames. The light from the rudimentary fire pit danced across his face, gleamed in his eyes and rested over the brief clearing: the stones and tinder, the trees, the fallen leaves and twigs blowing along, and the sloped canvas of the tents that circled him - packed in by the heat. The remains of an old world half-blended into the green and brown shadows receding away. The dirt kicked up from the day swirled in a restless mist that masked the tents and framed the fire that drew his gaze and emanated outward to brush his face. His eyes slightly watered as he watched the flames reduce the bark and wood-chips into a dead ash. A shock of white-red heat on black death. The chaos wears on the cohesion of solidarity. Fractures become more potent and the panicked blaze soon rushes in to crush them. In this state of near-frenzy, the chances of survival are low. He watched as it all frayed into insanity, with no force of order to grasp the reins of reason. The lick of the flame tips whipped about, sending embers floating up and out into the darkness stretching above through the canopies of the oak forest. The past few days flitted through his fleeting thoughts as his eyes followed the lights, joining the stars in an unknown heaven.