"Listen, child, we are all but colourless pigments to fill the voids of a colourful society"
I could hear the clouds roaring outside, the winds dancing, a night of passion and the moon, under the hidden clock of nobility and faith.
"We live in a world, where the prey must survive, where the predator is nothing but the prey of their own. In the quest for survival, one must decide the path of the elephant or wolf"
The gods forbade these words from being spoken, raining down fire and lightning on the young child's home.
In cunning ways, works the art of god, his paintbrush, make strokes on legendary hypocrisy, Nature's greatest virtues. He sends his loved ones to do the bidding.
"Burn down this infidel, he is nothing but a lovely elephant banished from his troop"
"I can still feel it my child, the smell of burning, the smell of char and delicious feasts of death's table where none ever ate."
The fate seemed certain, almost true to be decided for this painful slaughter, what a macabre way to end. Maybe, that was the art, the art of death personified in unheard agony and unanswered cries.
"I cried in lost voices, screamed in unheard languages, but none of them heard until..."
"Until what granny?"
Until I subjugated, to the will of god's needs. the needs of his master plan. To see his work, shine the way he desired. We are not made out of the free will of nature, but a pawn in a grand game of chess, where one only losses for the grapes and wines, of poetic chatter of another. My disobedience cost me, the burnt ground, the dull sun, the fields of asphodel denied and all for what? to be a living embodiment of unchecked free will.
Hence I tell you, "We are all but colourless pigments to fill voids of a colourful society"..."But granny, you also have a colour, those red leaves, those blood-red leaves"