Yesterday, I walked through the grave yard looking for something.
Searching. Wondering what the purpose of life is. I looked at the
inscriptions of different graves as I passed them. Some died young, others
were old, but no matter the age, they are all dead, and I wonder to myself,
what did they do during their life? Did they do something great? Was
there a purpose to their life? Is there a purpose to mine? Then I saw it.
A small grave stone, inscripted, and looking the same as the others. It
was seemingly insignificant, but, as with all the others, I asked the same
question. "What did you do? Was simple life at all important?" I sighed
deeply, and looked about me. Here I was in a world of yesterdays searching
for the answer to today. I looked back down at the grave stone. It didn't
have any great words on it, and it wasn't a grave for some great person,
but what little it said was enough.
Louis Ballat
A Newsie
Always and Forever
1884 -1902
~*~
Louis Ballat
A Newsie
Always and Forever
1884 -1902
~*~
