6 years At last , the journey is going to be done. The bugles sound the sonata of the final walk. Silver crest upon our heads, pride in our hearts. Singing the familiar hymn of unison we march our last . But that’s all a story of the past. The era of glory and passion has left me behind, forsaken in the desert of emptiness and despondency. In a blink of eye, 6 years has pass. One third of a lifetime, I have donned on the familiar blue, Driven by blinded goals and visions, oblivion to the truth and reality, It hurts to know what you hold on so deeply for the half-decade is what that pricks you the most. Yet we fought on, undeterred, with a mirage in mind. July has always been a sorrowful month. Departing and vows of eternal comradeship sworn on this very fateful month. Of remembrance and of a sense of belonging , people called this place home. Yet home has evolved into a stranger, devoid of emotions, heartless and pain. Ironic it seems, for a place of so much love, brings so much pain. This year’s july will be filled with different pains. No longer that of love, but that of hatred, despondency, and malice. Yet I yearn for that day. Not because of man’s vengeful nature, But it will free me of troubles and shame. The bubble that I have tried to hard to sustain, Has burst. Knowledge of hurting words pierce like swords immersed in fire. The place of congregation now lays in solitude, the work of a vileful creature. The fire that once fueled me now doused by the icy water. It pities that a once family which radiates warmth and a sense of belonging , Is now an empty shell, full of contempt and disgust. The line and tradition of gathering and meeting up of alumni in a place we hold so fondly ends in our time. Powerless to control. Repetition of such events eventually lead me tearless. Cadet years are time to learn. NCO’s time are memories to be cherish. Cadet inspectorship is the concluding chapter. But the conclusion is a bleak and remorseful , the epilogue nothing but blankness and despondency. 6 years has past, only to realize that there are no fruits of labor. The ship has reached its port, But its crew crestfallen and beaten. To all that has been through this rough patch with me, I salute you.
11:00 PM
