_Eshwar_

A tragedy...
An abrupt departure...
Death...
And rebirth.

Pain, rage, struggle, and blood honed a sword.
A sword sharp enough to sever through reality and reveal what lies beyond.

It unveiled something,
Or rather, someone, incomprehensible and unprecedented....
A being who seems to weave the threads of fate.

Does he truly exist, or is he merely a manifestation of another's will?
If he does exist, what purpose does he serve?
Is there really a purpose, or is it just another will imposed upon him?
If it is another's will, can he defy it?
Can he turn his sword against his creator,
A being who literally writes his reality?

Or will he be consumed by the abyss from which his power flows,
Forever lost in the shifting void of his own making?

The Blind Swordsman.

I felt my heart thump heavily, my forehead was soon drenched with dripping sweat—trickling down my unkempt short beard, that had grown, unruly; I wiped the sweat that dripped down into my brows from the hidden 'm'-shaped hairline, four fingers deep.

I was more anxious than afraid—if I stepped out of this space, I'd have to face a new start—.

Fuck, I'd rather be monotonous and lifeless!

I don't like the one I was minutes before, but I am scared!

It wasn't that I didn't like my lifeless lifestyle, I was carefree without a damn concern or responsibility, why would I hate it?

I was just confused about my life which felt without purpose.

I want to change for the better, but I didn't know if it was worth it.....

What if things turn out for the worse though?

Day-1 (4)