The Last Dishonor

Nothing stings like death. Nothing seems to take so much away and leave so little behind as this utter travesty. It is clear we were not made for it. No other animal but Man seems so affected by the loss yet so able to deal with it in all its horrible, uncompromising terms. It is, however, the enemy's final bow on the stage- it is the last smudge on a garment made to be as clean and white as snow. It is an unrepentant being's last battle plan, thinking he has burned the field to the ground, turning in unholy horror to the lush forest that has been growing behind his back the entire time.