His beard and hair had grown out and was white. The skin was worn, like leather, and age spots couldn't be avoided. To many, this life of solitude seemed so sad. Yet, he was content. All over the cabin were stacks of hundreds of notebooks. Words of wisdom, stories, memories, poetry, and spiritual musings. These he read as if it were a T.V., it was his entertainment. On Sundays he would sit out on the porch and remember. Remembering the times, the people, the jokes, the ones that made him smile. Now, I call him a warrior but he never had to fight or kill anyone. It was life that he had to overcome. Time and time again. I know this old man, but only partially. That is where the prophecy comes in. I, sometimes, wake in cold sweats. Knowing that that old man is me. This isn't a story. It is a dream. And so much more than a dream. It's my vision of the prophecy of a warrior. Living day by day until I meet this strong and worn man.
Dad, I miss you I still remember the day I had to bid you adieu If a word could describe that day, It'll be "REGRETS" Yes, regrets. I felt remorse for Not being the best daughter I could. I wept over Not having the courage to tell you The magnitude of my love for you. I bewailed Not growing up faster to shower you with all the care you deserved. I bemoaned Paying no heed to you at your weakest moments I felt conscience stricken about Being undeserving of you. Above all, I had compuctions about Not treating you like a King, When you did all you could To treat me like a princess. I've never seen God, but dad I saw him through you. Your love will forever be in my heart Your praise always on my lips The principles you instilled in me, will forever live on The void you left in my heart, will never be filled by another. As long as I'm alive, you live on.