I watched as he stopped in front of the guard.The nakedness of the man was overwhelming. His empty eyes searched for something already lost. His calloused hands gripped at something already gone. I felt as if I were on judgement in front of God. I stared. I weeped. How beautifully painful this man was. He carried the fire close to his face. It singed his graying beard. The man brought the flames to the guard's face. The guard didn't flinch. He seemed not to notice. The guard stepped forward, dwarfing the man beneath his shadow. His boots pressed into the snow.
The man was weak. I noticed how he stumbled and dropped in front of the guard's boots. The man fought to not drop the fire.The man was pathetic. Yet this man did not- could not - gain my pity. This man who induced so much pain in me could not inspire sympathy. He was man lain before death. He was not brave nor was he strong. He was humanity facing its end.
I could not help but fall to my knees when the guard pushed the man down. The man's face imprinted in the snow. I cried out when the fire fell to the ground. I could barely see now. The guard had moved and blocked my view of the man. The fire stayed in my sight. I could see it falling, forgotten by the man who laid in the snow. My eyes captured its flame before it was smothered by the snow. The darkness claimed the moment. A man hovered above the empty husk of another. And yet another turned away, captured by the shadows of war.