26 Milestones...

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A few days ago the traveller crossed the 26th milestone of his journey of life. His feet blistered with ambers of rage, his throat parched dry and eyes so hollow, that darkness itself would get consumed.

He saw many variations in all the seasons. Some, which made him strong.. weak.. empty.. sad.. cold.. Rain just drenched his fragile frame but could not cease the fire within. It still burns to keep him warm for its very cold outside. Hatred and selfishness are still snowing heavily with a few thunderstorms of pain every now and then. He has his soul for breakfast, his pride for lunch and serves himself his respect for dinner. His heart used to be all full of love, so he keeps that for the dessert. His path is a jigsaw puzzle with each piece bound by its own time limit. The pieces, which formed the missing smile, vanished in no time whereas the clocks on the ones showing pain and sorrow seem frozen all along. He wanders along his path, mile after mile, in search for his lost existence. Yet everyday he finds himself on a new crossroad leaving him no choice but to begin his quest all over again.

His childhood was robbed of innocence, his happiness all plundered and looted. But still he moved on with a painted smile on his face. For years he slept with eyes wide open to avoid the demons lurking within. His body aged as time passed by but the child still remains trapped within. He needs to play, he needs to laugh but his body has locked him inside. Instead of the love that he needed, his soul was whipped by the sins that his body made. But he somehow managed to stand up and walk further on his journey that destiny had embarked him with. He saw things that he was not supposed to see, he felt things that he was not supposed to feel. Thoughts all incest were crammed in his young mind. Like pieces of glass they were building up is his head but he could not vent them out to relieve himself of the unbearable pain.

As he grew older he faced the hidden faces of fate. Faces that he had never seen and for which he was not prepared. He was devoid of any clothes of self-respect but still he kept walking naked with the hungry eyes feasting on the adolescent flesh. He walked with his heart in his hand. People came, cut off a piece, enjoyed it and then walked away. He questioned himself for the feelings he had lost and for the emotions that he could not feel. But he just could not realize the fact that he did not have the heart required to feel anything anymore. Looking for an answer, he trudged ahead.

The body of the child finally succumbed to its fate, giving birth to the man he had now become. Lessons that he had learned at the cost of his own self. He believed that there are some people for whom, no matter what happens, the doors of your life always remain open. He came across many people but what actually mattered to him was that how many actually stopped and turned back to notice his presence. His eyes still wait and they still burn with hope within. Fate had used him from the day he was born and in his game of life, he had no permanent enemies and no permanent friends. He however did come across one that reflected him in one way or the other. A whore who sold her flesh.. Just her flesh. He looked at her thinking about the similarities and the differences. She survived by selling her body and he survived by selling of his soul. Hand in hand they walked for sometime. The feeling was somewhat strange and much needed at the moment. It is not everyday that you are able to see life from the other side of the mirror. But as fate would have it, they had to part. The path they were walking had come to an end. It now split in two different directions. They walked away from each other after exchanging their shadows but they had imprinted themselves on each other. He sighed but knew that he had to go on. He did not have a heart... so that made it easy for him.

He is painted with wounds all over. Some which we can see and some which we can only feel. Blood that's black, drains him of his sins and the maggots of truth eat up his decaying flesh. He scrubs his wounds to keep them alive so that they remind him of his real self. The sedative demons offer help and dance at his gates with the remedy for his pain. His body needs them for some relief but his will still holds strong. They return back to their dark world but with their hooks set deep in his flesh. The anchor of his will still holds him back from drowning in the sea of death.

He now rests at this milestone, preparing himself for the journey again. With a hope that’s dead, a smile that’s fake, a heart all consumed... a brand new start... a brand new day...



Peace,
Firacub.