Death's recreation

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred.

Moving on, or holding back, life puts you through everything you keep preparing for but are never ready. Humanity and its soulless existence survives, while the loves fade into different dimensions. The fleeting realities of time slippery as a sweaty grasp require effort, I know that now.

Nothing is easy or nice, and to rule is a disposition acquired through hardships and secrets. Friends are hard to keep and new ones are always hiding behind layers of cupcakes. Is there even a bond possible? Over a common 'enemy'? a drunk party? Dismissed so often as a smaller-than-reality person, but always complimented like nothing could shatter the walls of emotion; or the lack of them.

One question, called 'the' question. Beyond which there could not be anything to a person? So pigeon-holed it feels small. Grandness and beauty are vague and distant, stand here I, alone in this cold plastic box, made of people.

Hoping to come out stronger and above. Impossible hope.