Wandering Soul

The night was heavy. Nothing was in sight. Nobody was alive. Empty, completely empty. The suffocating silence was hanging anywhere between the dark grey clouds and the lifeless meadow.

Some wise men might name this as eternity. He did not think so.

Because I will break it.

He shouted to the sky with all his strength, and waited for an echo.

And it came the echo, in the name of Thunder.

“Who are you, wandering soul?”

“As you know, a wandering soul. My name has been erased by the flow the time, and my shape contaminated by the darkness all over here.”

“Are you not satisfied with your eternal life?”

“Satisfied? What a word! Tell me, Thunder, where is the exit from this place?”

“This place, you say? There is no exit, for an exit does no good to you.”

“I will create one if there is not.”

“As stupid as human.”

“I will be human.”

“Indeed you will.”

A ray of sunshine crept in, with a mild breeze.

“Now you have a human form, and the darkness will retreat; mind you, my son, this is only an illusion.”

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