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Apr. 19th, 2005 11:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lastgunslingerOut here, by the lake -- by where the door was -- Roland can sit on a nearby rock, knees pulled up to his chest, and say what needs to be said -- even though he will not say it out loud.
If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.
If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.
May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight; let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let every one whose name he calls call his in return.
This was Joe, who lived well, loved his own, and died as ka would have it.
Each man owes a death. This was Joe. Give him peace.
He turns his head, rests it on his knees, and does his best not to think about anything in particular.
If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.
If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.
May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight; let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let every one whose name he calls call his in return.
This was Joe, who lived well, loved his own, and died as ka would have it.
Each man owes a death. This was Joe. Give him peace.
He turns his head, rests it on his knees, and does his best not to think about anything in particular.
