My lifelong dream spreads out before me, African savannah broken up here and there by giraffe-ravaged trees. The curious cackle of nearby hyenas disturbs the tranquility.
For years I’d professed a desire to die by way of lion. Perhaps watching the Lion King daily as a child planted the seeds that would evolve into an honest wish to become part of the circle of life. When I knew my time was coming, I often said, I would voyage to Africa to fall where man first stood. A week prior to today, I sensed death’s icy breath at my neck.
And here I stand, broken by time, a little prune of a man. The bat that was supposed to be a weapon has become my staff. I suppose everything has come together as I wanted, but still…
Why am I here? I still have some life left in me. And, why am I naked? I can feel the yellow eyes of predators sizing me up. The bat might as well be a water balloon. I’m having serious regrets now.
It sure is beautiful here. I wonder if I can still climb a tree.
