I was not never really clear on what was worse, a world left without harm. Or a small community village being pillaged and burned to the ground. Clothes and other personnel belongings being thrown around in all directions; bodies are grasping onto the life they bear to hold.

I was never able to understand why in a world of pain and sorrows a man would torture the living.

There I sit upon a cliff, filling my head with questions that were never going to be answered.

I was slicing into an apple, eating every piece with a bitterness taste to it. Wasting a perfect evening on the living, I never cared much for the ones who lived that’s why I chose my time on the road.

Anytime I got the chance to see a community in the middle of the desert, I guess I really do take it.

For it may never be there in the mourning.

Buried in the desert; never telling its tale, forever forgotten in time.