We are tall walkers, proud of ourselves and our skills, our achievements and our triumphs. And yet, there comes a time in our lives when we realize that all this eventually meant as much to us as a broken web meant to a spider. Turn around, and what do you see? No, not the skyscrapers you built, not the sculptures that you made. Just a smouldering, burning wreckage of what might have been, had you chosen differently. In hindsight, life is a perfect journey that went wrong at so many crossroads. Many a right turn you have ignored. Many a wiseman's word you have pretended not to hear. The legacy that we left unseized, the treasures that could have been so rightfully ours, lost .Plundered by that unseen yet seemingly invincible adversary, which some call fate. Hindsight is of course, a mirage. Instead of the oasis you see much ahead of you in the desert, this one is far behind you. You think that there had been a lovely green patch, with a cool flowing stream waiting for you and you had ignored it. It is but a mirage for the misfortunes that have besieged your soul know not the fights that you have lost.
The world laughs at the plight of a lost man, for a lost man is filled with doubt. These carrion eaters laugh at the carcass of your dreams, feed through the maggots that infest the rotten meat of your failures. Burn them away, drive them aside. He who laughs at your state now shall laugh tomorrow, but to merely please you. You should know that more than anyone else. You long to tie these creatures with barbed wire-chains onto an electric chair, beat their bloated, stinking, fat guts out, and at the end throw that damned switch on. Burn in hell. My version of hell. Hell is not on a distant planet. Its right here, right next to us, right within us. In a corner of the mind, when someone throws a seed of doubt. The seed that grows in to that wicked plant that strangles and chokes the breath out of your self-belief.
It is then that we need to find ourselves. Look deep into the reservoirs of strength, and hold out. Park the bus, so as to use a certain figure of speech. Stand your ground. Take out the broadsword of your resilience, and plunge it hard into the flesh of the adversary. Never mind the splashes of red that will be tattooed against your soul. For some treasures cometh at a price. Such as inner peace.
