Kindling Fires From the Ashes of Anger...and Regret

I try not to dwell on it, i really do. I try not to mope about the fact that that fire went out. That I put that fire out. I start a new fire that shows promise. Promise, perhaps, that i didn't see before, but it only reminds me. It only forces me to remember that there was a fire before it that burned brighter than any I can ever have while still thinking about it. How are you supposed to forget? One would think that staring into the new flames would slowly burn away the memories of the old and not force reminiscence. One would think...

And herin lies the probably. The only kind of thinking your Captain seems to have is hindsight. If he would just stop, stop for but a moment, and consider what he was about to do, he could've saved that fire. Instead, it lies in the center of a field of grass; it could've grown into a wildfire, but it rained. He rained upon that fire with arrogance and lust. He rained and that fire went out without a hiss or a squelch. It was doused in silence and only the tears of his sky continued to ricochet off of the drenched wood.

The skies no longer shed the sorrows, but the sadness seems imminent with clouds of remorse hovering over the plains of...the plains of love.

There is an utter silence, here, a silence brought by neither thought nor action, but merely by existance.


It is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all...

I'm not quite sure that man was entirely briefed on the subject before he made that statement...

He had no idea.

Captain Vincent of The Regret
"The Ace of Spades"