Traveler

The lonely figure stood atop the hill. The sun setting behind, it's fiery light illuminating the surrounding valley with it's sombre glow. The day was done, the battle over and all that remained, was the dark silhouette of the lonely traveler.
Searching for his identity, searching for his life, all he had found was nothing but despair and pain, all that he could see was the loss and heartbreak and the grueling forces that swirled around, dominating, oppressing. And the only thing he could do, was stand by and watch, watch as the world turned around him, as those he knew, those he had cared about, came and went, like the current of the ocean or leaves in the wind.
Alone in this world, alone in his mind, he set out, maybe once hoping, maybe once believing, but all that was gone now. As his journey took him further and further away from who he had once been, all that could be done, was to look back and see all the things that had been missed, all the people that had been lost. As the despair and the loss set in, the cold and hardened soul of the weary traveler took over.
But in the dark, in the forgotten memories of who he was, there was still a light. The light that kept him moving, the light that he could not see. The light that he wouldn't see. As the days wear on, as the loneliness took over, he would never stop, he would never be truly defeated. For he wasn't forgotten and though he may never know it, though he will deny it, he will be loved, he will be cared for and all that he has done will always be remembered and his light will live in the memories of those he had once lost.
The lonely figure stood atop the hill, the valley stretched out beneath him. The sun rising behind, it's light of life, it's light of hope, giving way to the travels that yet remain, for the remembered traveler.