Post by Lynx on Jun 8, 2019 14:37:57 GMT -5
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep…
He sat there, in a corner, in an almost empty bar, with a bottle of whiskey in front of him and a halfway smoked cigarette hanging from the left corner of his mouth.
It was one of these small, dark and moldy bars that reek of ages past and wasted years. Just like he was feeling today, too. With his thirty eight years on his shoulders, he was a lot nearer the fifties than he was near the twenties.
He was feeling old and wasted too…
..But only for a little while!
He grinned, ironically, and took another sip from his whiskey bottle.
Sometimes, just some small times, people are as old as they feel. He was really not feeling all that old after all. He was thirty eight , but that is not fifty, nor is it sixty. He was still on his prime, for a lot of things.
..for a lot of things, that is.
In sports, the age he was in was the age of retirement for many athletes. Even in wrestling, his chosen profession, people tended to have more or less short careers. Not everyone was Rick Flair, after all.
Not everyone could be active and competitive with Sixty buckets on his shoulders.
Most of the pro wrestlers he knew, were in retirement at max forty five years of age.
And he? Eligoor Oslund?
The Warrior
The Fighter
The Champion
The Hall of Famer!
He wanted to return in the squared circle after all these years, at the age of wisdom and hope. When people have achieved quite some things and are ready to go into the calm years, with a sense of accomplishment and pride.
He wanted to be competitive and fight against those greenhorns, with their young hearts and loads of energy. He wanted to get in the ring and win and become a champion, while competing against people in their mid twenties at max…
It was difficult
Challenging
But not impossible…
After all, we are the architects of our own life. We all have story to tell and a story to live
And this was his one.
He was gifted with unbelievable might and he was not a slacker. He fought against the signs of age with all his strength, and his strength was plenty. He spent half of his time in the Gym. Lifting mountains of weight and sweating buckets.
At least four hours a day in lifting weights.
Training.
His age was not that of a greenhorn, that was true, but his might was that of a lion and that was also true.
He was the Legend of HCW
And even if HCW was long no more, he was still here.
Ready to fight, ready to take on the challenging challenge.
Another sip of whiskey..
..another drag from his cigarette.
It was that time again
Time to shine
Time to pour Sweat, Blood and Spite…
It was difficult. It was Challenging.
But he, He wouldn't want it any other way…
He stood up and went out of the bar, into the empty city streets.
It was Nine PM, yet the heat of the day was still hanging on the streets like a heavy woolen mantle. It was hot. Summer was finally here.
He shook his head and vanished in a street corner, covered by the night
The night was lovely, dark and deep
But he had miles to go
And promises to keep
...Before his Final Sleep!
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep…
He sat there, in a corner, in an almost empty bar, with a bottle of whiskey in front of him and a halfway smoked cigarette hanging from the left corner of his mouth.
It was one of these small, dark and moldy bars that reek of ages past and wasted years. Just like he was feeling today, too. With his thirty eight years on his shoulders, he was a lot nearer the fifties than he was near the twenties.
He was feeling old and wasted too…
..But only for a little while!
He grinned, ironically, and took another sip from his whiskey bottle.
Sometimes, just some small times, people are as old as they feel. He was really not feeling all that old after all. He was thirty eight , but that is not fifty, nor is it sixty. He was still on his prime, for a lot of things.
..for a lot of things, that is.
In sports, the age he was in was the age of retirement for many athletes. Even in wrestling, his chosen profession, people tended to have more or less short careers. Not everyone was Rick Flair, after all.
Not everyone could be active and competitive with Sixty buckets on his shoulders.
Most of the pro wrestlers he knew, were in retirement at max forty five years of age.
And he? Eligoor Oslund?
The Warrior
The Fighter
The Champion
The Hall of Famer!
He wanted to return in the squared circle after all these years, at the age of wisdom and hope. When people have achieved quite some things and are ready to go into the calm years, with a sense of accomplishment and pride.
He wanted to be competitive and fight against those greenhorns, with their young hearts and loads of energy. He wanted to get in the ring and win and become a champion, while competing against people in their mid twenties at max…
It was difficult
Challenging
But not impossible…
After all, we are the architects of our own life. We all have story to tell and a story to live
And this was his one.
He was gifted with unbelievable might and he was not a slacker. He fought against the signs of age with all his strength, and his strength was plenty. He spent half of his time in the Gym. Lifting mountains of weight and sweating buckets.
At least four hours a day in lifting weights.
Training.
His age was not that of a greenhorn, that was true, but his might was that of a lion and that was also true.
He was the Legend of HCW
And even if HCW was long no more, he was still here.
Ready to fight, ready to take on the challenging challenge.
Another sip of whiskey..
..another drag from his cigarette.
It was that time again
Time to shine
Time to pour Sweat, Blood and Spite…
It was difficult. It was Challenging.
But he, He wouldn't want it any other way…
He stood up and went out of the bar, into the empty city streets.
It was Nine PM, yet the heat of the day was still hanging on the streets like a heavy woolen mantle. It was hot. Summer was finally here.
He shook his head and vanished in a street corner, covered by the night
The night was lovely, dark and deep
But he had miles to go
And promises to keep
...Before his Final Sleep!
