He was such a boy, who never found
rest in the simple ways of life. Continuously trying to find a new meaning or
any meaning at all, his life was not going to be spent by simply existing.
Through the rainy days he would look out and see a down pour of water, misty
dew hugging the earth itself and not letting go. A swift breath of wind from
every corner of the earth finding its way to that one place, that one place where
the boy has found himself in that moment. He thought to die a man of no name,
how could anyone be okay with this? To die not for any cause or to not have your
smile at your end burning in the minds of those who passed you on to your new
life. The gifts you were given were meant for a purpose. This boy knew purpose
was his passion and it would be the greatest gift of all to receive. Yet how
can you go into such a mind set when all those around you have fallen prey to
the life they have been offered.. Constructed for them by the social structure that
preceded them and will far long proceed.
The boy sat quietly with a wonder in
his eyes, gazing over all that life entails which is considered to be normal
and not to be given a second thought. The ideas of a man are his own, and as we
grow older we have power to set those ideas into a motion that can change the
entire path of human history in years to come. A wonder that can give light to
a new beginning, one that may have never been meant to cross the earth’s
surface.. But rather pass by and die a death fit for an idea. Fading into oblivion.
Every rain drop is a pulse thrusting
adrenaline through every vein in his body. The walk alone through the rainy path
of this place seems to be the most crowded, losing his identity in the process
and retrieving the identity of his ideas. These are the moments a great leader
is born, and the boy.. he is the product of his own creation. His ideas have finally
been given a face, at the sacrifice of himself.
