I sit upon a chariot staring back from whence I came, and watching the scenery pass.
Things appearing then slowly fading away, growing old in memory.
The path I'm on is a winding one, surreal while serene, the beauty masked by the fact that it never lasts, at least to the distant eye.
Yet I do not guide this vessel, but am no more than a passenger, to my current knowledge.
I then begin to wonder, as I see the trail my journey has taken, how I made it to where I was, to where I am.
Why is it that my journey has taken this route, not the route I passed before, why have I made the choices I have, how come I never stayed.
My journey continues blindly, as a yearn to go back, to see what I missed, to take the opportunities once provided, to take the "better" path.
Yet I still do nothing, but yearn, and dream of glorified destinations, and watch as my tracks left behind leave no more than a faint line, slowly to be erased.
Staring back while moving ahead, wanting to be what I could've been, but never looking ahead to what I could be.
The scenery begins to grow ugly, things seem dried, void of color, the ground itself shrivels away to sand, a constant moving sand that seems to be alive, appears to be dead, and follows behind in an ominous fashion.
I decide to take action, I want, I need to get out of this place, where the sky itself is white, and the light itself is black.
I turn my focus ahead, and what lies before me is a void, uncertainty, the unknowing of a changing future.
I try to take the reins, but I am given no heed, my course seems predetermined by fate itself.
I look upon the creatures that guide my vessel, and with horror and wonderment I gaze upon the beasts.
One is as pure as disease, it's mane and features bare the resemblance to the sky, eternal.
The next is far more fearsome, it's appearance takes on that of blazing blood, it's form is fluid.
Following suite is the next, for whom bares resemblance of oil and politics, greed in itself.
The last, being that of ashen, it's form appearing sullen, is no more than flesh and bone.
It is then that I learn the names, or give the names to suite; Conquest, War, Famine, and Death.
I grab the reins again, not wanting whatever destination they ride towards.
I shout their names and give commands, pulling back as hard as I can, I do not want to go further.
The chariot then begins to sway, as the beasts fight my commands, determined to hold no master, I struggle to hold on.
A final jolt sends me off, speeding away the creatures seem to laugh, I am forced to take my journey by foot, but I am finally "free".
Free, and lost...
