The strength, to move on

I saw, under their shedding eyes, behind their subdued smiles, shadowed by their meager sighs, the search, for the strength, to move on.

Merely, an inkling of thoughts about survival, without having to unwillingly imagine the bloodied bodies, the bullet wounds, the bearded men, the deafening noise caused by the rifle shots, bought a flicker of shine in their now dull and secretive eyes.

Cradling the memories they had together, cherishing the moments they had spent together, letting nostalgia sweep over them, they opened the doors of the thoughts that were full of hope, love and happiness. Momentarily, they envisioned themselves back, under those huge green trees, searching for stars in dark silenced nights, finding the meaning behind each shaping cloud, flying along with the soaring feather-flocks high above in the heavens… Oh the good times. Ploughing further for more happiness, drifting away in the sea of pleasure, it suddenly occurred as a lightening had struck, that those were the moments gone. But, it gave them hope. Still, smiling weakly, but this time, with a little more determination, a little willingness, vowing to themselves, that these memories would never get erased. These reminiscences will never wither.

And thus they gain the strength, to move on.

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