My left hand now a deep red, as I stumble close to the end of this stoney path. Blood still slips through the wound on my stomach. As I try to catch my breath I fall onto a long wooden fence. My right hand leaves bloodied fingerprints upon it.
As I lean the loss of blood leaves me hazy and a numbness slowly creeps through me. Its hard for me to tell if I am in pain or already dead.
I find the strength to pull my head up and look ahead of me. That is when I am blessed. That is when I am graced. A view of green, silent, breathtaking countryside.
If this is when I die then I am glad to die with this view as my parting image.