July 3, 1863....a wicked heat consumes me as I feverishly wipe off beads of sweat and the pangs of fear that reveal themselves on my worn face. Standing on the battlefield, I take in my surroundings and reflect for a moment's time. A sigh escapes me as I question my ability to persist on. What do I have left to give in this fight? My fellow companions both agile and frail seem to be considering these same thoughts as I find myself reaching for the will I need to continue. Only a flicker of determination remains and a reminder of my past dreams of how things could have been different. How ironic...I am trapped in a field of constant war, yet my own mind is the place that feels the most confining. I need an escape. And that is just within my grasp if I can manage to follow the light. It begs me not to shut down, to hold on. Something within the depths of my soul makes me take a step further, makes me provide just one more effort to keep fighting. I can't give up. Not when I have come this far in this battle. And as I let this ounce of hope take over me, it spreads through my veins and pulses through the innumerable beats of my heart. It fuels me with newfound energy. I open my eyes and see the world anew. Despite my own struggles, I find myself gravitating to a man who is trying to stand. I go over to his side and help him up. We exchange no words, but somehow this is enough for me. I could understand his gratitude from his smile and the way he walked away more hopeful. I've come to realize that even as we all go through our own intense battles, there will always be hope. That one spark to remind us that we have a lot to offer this world. And that litte spark is enough to cause us all to burn bright like a wildfire and light up this world with passion. And so, fight on, soldier!
© Aligator

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