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The Reality Of Life

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His heart, the foremost abode of all cravings and desires, had been proselytized. His brain, the breeder of cognitive thoughts, had been out washed. His insides were churning; it was like a film being played in the innermost recesses of his mind, as he sat on a low bench, deeply sunk in a reverie of auld langsyne.
He was but an atheist, a man who had opposed the ubiquitous light of truth throughout his span of buoyancy. He had waited for something gonzo, something outré, something unwonted to show him the path to theflambeauu of morality and the fountain of ebullition, away from thevandalisticcinnuendoss brio and élan have to offer. He had been piqued by the mere touch of veracity, if it did touch him, and had turned off all sources of his amelioration, mainly because he was a pessimist, because he had the cognizance that the world would end one day, when all the good would come to nothing, as would evil. He led an unscrupulous life; what did it matter in this contemporary world? The purpose of his life unveiled, he sauntered on, waiting for a revolution to wreak havoc in his drudged life.
He was the strangest of all beings; he shrank while others caroused, he slunk in the shadows while others roamed in the brilliantly lit alleys. He ambled in the valley of fear where others walked briskly, almost at a trot to avoid the eyes of death as it hovered above them; for while they strived to live, he strove to fulfill the tryst with death, which every man must one day.
But now his heart, black as soot with the dust of ages, had been changed. His mind was disturbed and his thoughts disrupted yet his mind was at ease; a spiritual ease until then unknown to him. An incident had changed his mind; if I be a bit more obvious, it had coerced him to change his mind. Like the cupid, the symbol for love and affection, that bonds people, a similar cause célèbre had affected him; he the extemporaneous ignoramus was now the sagest upon earth; he who thought life was nothing now became the foremost propeller, audaciously striving for the persistence of life. The sight of a young boy, who had not even blossomed to the age of maturity, laying down his life to protect an old man, when many dastardly cowards stood lingering had but caused a pandemonium in his mind and thought. How he , who had never even known what care was, wept over the corpse of the un-bloomed flower, how he enunciated from the peaceful visage in midst of the splintered bones of someone his compatriot and coeval, that life is not to amble and roam in the wilderness of misery, caring for none and being cared for by none, but that life is to live for others, and when the moment comes, to sacrifice your own self to go to where all munificent spirits rest, after they have laid down the precious conferment of God for the sake of others. This is de facto, and when he realized it, the impromptu connoisseur of death attained the apogee and zenith of deportment and became omnipresent, for all generations to come.





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MKhanz said...
Mar. 16, 2012 at 12:27 pm
Very well written! keep up the good work!!!!all the best.............
 
Dynamo This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Mar. 16, 2012 at 5:41 am

sorry for the few mistakes :

its 'the flambeau'

and 'the vandalistic innuendoes'

 
Dynamo This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Mar. 16, 2012 at 5:41 am

sorry for the few mistakes :

its 'the flambeau'

and 'the vandalistic innuendoes'

 
Toran replied...
Apr. 2, 2012 at 9:12 am

I think you are a really great writer. I like your style :)

 

 
Dynamo This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Apr. 2, 2012 at 11:49 am
thanks  :)
 
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