A Hunt For A Seeker

 To the last and scarce story that the world have ever tell, nor they would just be certain of a solicit belief that those paper have e'er inked forever in history. To be rounded, in a solemn narrative that this man have penned over the years– truly he proved what was his purpose in life, because he is a human indeed.

 He was no other man that dream big in the drear streets of the nothingness. Yet, we cannot over dream that no man was ever bliss with such grace. Doubtless, for mere the river was the face of fate. Not utter they muttered, still they shown it uttered– the man wanted nothing to his life than preference, he, was the man they called a dear masochist. Until not a day pass that the dawn was like his mien, moody and unsatisfied. He asked himself what was the purpose of his life like. He ponder yon there, he asked and yet keep probing. To philosophized, but no syllable would express what he longed for.

 He dear to enquire himself, what made him human. Thence he asked to God what he longed for, questions that pry upon him. But ne'er to riposte, of what he wanted– to be just that man that stood in that shadow of the dark tomb-stone. Drugged up, obsess with a renown. But the man was a middle class, but then he said he was no countryman. The man venture the land and stride, here he met this girl, she was sullen, true– the girl ford upon the man and there she asked one thing– "Can you achieve this by walking the impossible?"

 The man did not utter and snub the girl, but yet he was defied at a pointless and meaningless word. There they stood, wondering, to mutter the most. He saw the cities and alley that purely to sicken him. Nonetheless, he simply stare at the people, those street vagrants, the breeze that blown the leaves– and that scented smells of bread and meat, but you just bare to see them lead on something? Futile, isn't it?

 To look down to the world, or what can he do to follow the path? Here he finally answered he desired most– he wanted to find the Eden, of the heart, the Heaven they said to exist. To walk the land that the door once opened the light; one lamp, the mere one lamp could light the hallways that were evergreen that stared upon us. What a dream, what a dream! he called to us.

 He started to talked the people surrounding him, here he asked the clerk. He said, "Why are still a clerk if you are free to rest and enjoy life like Heaven does?" And the clerk asked if he does wait for a momentary desire for eternity.

Thence he said, "Mere you could count the world itself, you would to sleep but tell yourself why you sleep at night instead of day or even forever?"

Puzzled for what the clerk said, yet he asked "Can I see where people do go? Either you bet that ethereal? Can I go there?"

The answered, "To who answer their path is only you who could lead your way."

The man walked again the vicinity and stared at the stars high, and yet to proceed to asked "Why are you so high?" To talk such nonsense, he or will be that star that glow that eve for tomorrow's east. To travel so far that's so exhausting, he asked a traveller, "Why do you travel far when you could rest and see the world inside than out?"

But the traveller said, "Then why do you ponder so much about the world inside when you could see it than your bare eyes. It is not about traveling– than what you where suppose to be…"

To contemplate and yet to think again, what he bare to seek what such an impossible task; then he met this tramp who smiled at him, the man interrogated, "Why art ye smiling, when your life seem to be towed by downfall?"

The tramp asked, "Why such in a great misery, my boy? When you could witness the world rotate and cycle like trash? Look at the world, there such a disease that plague and pest the streets of your paradise? To still seek your longing thru pleasure and dreams, boy?"

The man thought, "Art might the man that world meant to be? Isn't that's what the reason we live for? To look at the mirror and say, 'We are indeed humans to live and die for?'"

Then the tramp said, "You must art a man with such darkness, you seek thru not the soul but what the world have."

The man left the city, without a clue, without a reason to seek for, but he met yet again the girl, and she gaze at him. Longer than its time, she just stood there, and she asked, "Have you found the arrow that piers the roaming heart? That towed the line straight and nothing more? What you must not care of, is what that came most. And what you found, is what you mostly lost."

The man called, "Do you care most the world at last? Have you pondered what the dream was called to be? You must having a mistake when you called a dream a dream. To called the world to be provincialism? Too narrow to dream with, too small to live in a disease that plague a world! This and at all, will you ever found the Heaven that's ne'er to step with?"

And the girl respond, "Then you are not a human. You're not at all man than a coward. Lost in the woods, and lost at all cost. Driven by question that took you too much. Than you haven't seen the real Ethereal does."

And the man begged for answer, that bothered him most– those little relevant. And then, the girl stood beside him. And said one thing. "Have you met a terrible fate, haven't you?"