“You can’t do it, you can’t.”
The voices flew about, like meteors in the sky. They were dark, yet blazing. Destructive things. Beautiful form far, far away, but as you get near them, they blow you apart, till you are no more than little, insignificant pieces, present somewhere, yet nowhere. Your soul, ripped apart, in shreds, floating into nowhere, desperately trying to join back. The soul, knowing it can join back, but not knowing how. All attempts futile. The others, meanwhile, watch. They watch you, gleefully, amused, happy. An impure joy, an impure happiness. An impure amusement. Yet, amusement all the same. They see you beg, see you broken, bent, shattered, all with satisfaction. The beautiful, wretched moment that they had waited for, for so long, the moment they had strived for, fought for, dreamt about. The moment when all the glory, the beauty, freedom, strength, it all blew apart. When they see a man, a man in each and every true sense of the word, blown to tiny insignificant pieces. You beg them. You hate it, hate yourself for doing it. But you do it. You beg them. Beg them to let you join again.
A hint of the old beauty comes back. Then you realise, and the horror, the disgust, the revulsion, it fills you up. It pushes out your dependence, fills you up. It pushes out your dependence, your pity, your sympathy. The horror and disgust goes. And you are pure…again. The beauty, the glory, the strength, like a powerful gust of wind, it brings you back together, joining the pieces, fitting them together. A jigsaw puzzle. And a beautiful picture emerges. A picture of man, a man who lives up to the true, deep, full meaning of the word. And you are mesmerised. The others shrink. They shrink till they cannot be seen. And you forget them. All hint of their presence is gone. There is just…purity.
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