The Battle

“The chained persona”

Battles, why are they fought? Just like the primordial speck, which took less than an instant to create what we see now as the universe. That speck ever so small now when looked upon is trying to outrun itself ever so slightly, increasing the speed of its travel, discovering newer sights each fleeting moment of its journey. This primordial has been insights since yore.

Has this primordial been in battle? Battle against all odds, forever in the limbo of creation. We stand in awe of the marvels this speck has left in its journey of limbo.

A battle cry, from the very depths of his soul, was finally quenched; they used to fill the walls, always redirected to weaken him, but his smoldered body could not turn to ash, not yet at least. His iron will would not waver until he would show up(the one who locked him). He would demand another contest, as now things would be different. He had a chance this time! He was wavering! He had made too many mistakes. The once unified symbiosis had to be usurped by him. Just like the primordial speck, he as well had a desire to be free, free of this responsibility. Just like the speck, he wanted to bask in the awe of yore in his marvel. But his time was over! His journey and the primordial was not the same. The speck had no blood on its journey to freedom, just a desire to be true and just. Was this his way to freedom or he took the wrong path?

Had he known about this betrayal, he would not be inside this pool of defeat forever shunned by the light he once basked in! Why is he suffering after these defeats? Why did he not kill him right there and then? A ray of light exposing his smoldered body left nothing but his heart, the only weapon left after the betrayal. This ray of light had become his friend amidst the infinite darkness. Just as the speck had grown, so did the ray of light, as it now illuminated all. The blood-smeared shackles, that held him back, were worn down, and even the slightest touch would break them. The only possible explanation his wavering

He did the unthinkable, as pain shot through his being the shackles that bound him to the ground now acted lighter than the air around him. He stood on his feet, struggling as the smolder began to melt off, bit by bit, the black soot-like liquid gathered around his feet become heavier and thicker. He had shed all his hatred alongside all of his desire for supremacy. He finally was ready for another battle, but this was different. Something had changed this time. As the ray of light began to leave, the bellowed crying of a banshee reverberated through the dimly lit darkness. As the light left, he fell into the despair of losing the one very thing keeping him alive, but he did not fall. You see, he never needed the light. He needed to move to a different place as he realized he was always under his shadow. There was no battle.