Forget Me Not

He lays, freshly fallen.  A gentle spotlight of sun pays its respects.  One almost expects his chest to rise and fall with breath, but nature already knows.  A circle of boulders forms a kind of monument at the natural gravesite.  Blue flowers, forget-me-nots, gently beckon the observer to stop and reflect.  But man in his temporal pursuits, charges forward with little regard for the shared destiny of all men, friend or foe.  It is springtime; the war has just begun and a backdrop of lush greens, violets, and rays of yellow light dramatically color thoughts of valor among seven cavalry men.  To their mind’s eye, as perhaps to ours, the trees seem to bend away out of their path.  Their leader creates quite the splash, but it is only fleeting.  The powerful calm of the water will continue to pull the log into its watery grave.  The log, long since fallen, is yet like the man, with a spirit that beckons to a force much larger than all of our individual differences to “forget me not.”