De titel staat nog lang niet vast, maar dit is de proloog, die ik al (bijna) goed genoeg vind. Ik ben niet echt veel bezig met het schrijven van dit verhaal (heb niet zoveel tijd), maar heb wel de intentie het ooit af te maken.
Dit is in ieder geval de proloog voor jullie, ik ben benieuwd wat jullie ervan vinden.
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Longing Valor
Prologue
Dharlo is standing on a plateau of a tall, young mountain. Wind howls as it smoothens the sharp edges of the mountain ridges. Eventually, even the greatest mountain will fall by that force and be shaped by the wind. That same, fiery force now holds the wings of some gracious birds.
He is gazing. Unable to focus, lost within his thoughts. His clouded mind is torturing him with questions that he cannot possibly answer, questions that don’t deserve an answer, or perhaps not even to be thought of. Suddenly something catches his eye and he realizes that his mind was drifting. The eagle now high in the air eats his just caught fish. When the bird flies out of sight, he tries to return his thoughts. “Was it right? Was there no other way? Did it matter? Did anything matter?” He realizes he cannot give a sound answer to any of these questions and wonders if he ever can. Perhaps it’s for the best that he doesn’t know the answers of those questions.
The birds are darting through the sky, sliding elegantly through clouds, leaving trails of white smoke behind their colorful tails. Such freedom. Dharlo realizes he now is free as well; but it is not the same. They are really free, and he…he is trapped in freedom. The sorrow returns, and as much as Dharlo resists, it is impossible to shield his mind from it. The truth seems much to dark to allow any brightness in his thoughts. A faint light appears in the corner of his eye. Dharlo needs this distraction; he needs to relive his hope.
He focuses and watches as the light brightly illuminates the grass of the plain below. It seems the grass doesn’t know whether to welcome the bright beams, or to be afraid of them, waving both back and forward. Although it is only the wind playing with the grass, somehow it feels like more then just that. Some rabbits appear out of their holes, blinking as the light hits their eye. The rabbits seem so peaceful, running over the plains below. It looks like life here hasn’t noticed what has happened.
Slowly Sun’s Touch moves on, and now Dharlo is awaiting the sun to cover him.
When I close my eyes, I feel the wind gently touching my hair, and lean on my other foot. An invisible tear drops from my chin and falls on the ground and splashes up, before becoming one with the ground. I even think to hear the impact the tear makes with the ground. I see the shadows moving backwards up the hill, losing the fight with the sun. I smile as the first beams of light touch my body. The beams are warm and I feel like I’m glowing; like being a child of the sun and now getting my meal. A red glow appears on my eyes; it happened many times before... but this time... it was special. I open my eyes and feel relieved, the sun did rise and shine, and I could feel it. Joy for a brief moment. Then, inevitably, the feeling of uselessness. What’s next to do?
Searching my knowledge for an answer of the question a sudden image comes to my mind; that… of a coin. The coin, it is flipping while it dances through the air. It feels heavy in the air, feeling much heavier that it looks. It has been burdened with a task. Heads .. Tails .. Heads .. Tails ..
When two extremes must be weighed against each other, a coin is perfect; it has two faces, with both equal chance of facing the sky after the coin has landed. Sometimes an event can be just like a coinflip, it can go either way and you sit and watch desperately, hoping that the right face is looking at you when the coin finally stops spinning. It is said that Life and Death too are two faces of the same coin. That coin was flipped for him, he watched, and saw it land, only to discover the one thing no one had yet foreseen; it landed on its edge. Impossible and yet that was to be expected when someone as impossible as a paradox tries to get a clear answer.
He is staring himself almost blind in the sun, but he doesn’t care at all. He smiles to the sun, like greeting a companion, a dear friend. A smile in the face of despair; you lose -for now.
Hate will always exist, for the simple reason that people need to know the difference between hate and love; you can’t tell the difference if the world is only filled with love, nor can you if the world is only filled with hate. “It was a meaningless act, yet gave meaning to so many…”
With his eyes once again closed, he wonders if history will ever repeat itself. The birds answer with a brief sound and he wonders -yes or no?
He knows there will be more, as the sad reality is that there will be more, because there is need for more; always the need for hope…
He turns around without opening his eyes, and starts walking, in his mind, thanking the sun for the display…
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Hope is the one crop that can grow in any climate
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