Paradise

As she sat looking out on the horizon, the tears glistened in her eyes. Was this indeed life? Was this what some would call paradise? Indeed! Were they blind or simply mad? Perhaps, they had lost touch with reality. Perhaps, they had lost touch with the realm of the real. Yeah, it had to be so because there was no way she could explain it otherwise. The tears, pain, climax of sufferance, and pits of lows could not be joy. They could not exist in paradise. Paradise was Eden. Eden was the perfect garden with perfect soul mates, flowers, trees, and beautifully pure souls. This was a filthy marsh where one could barely walk, least of all hold your head up. She could barely breath because of the stench. She could barely comprehend what they had come to call life. Is it the hourly pay, expensive suits, cheap dresses, luxurious cars, broken down rusters, or simply the humdrum of gas. What was it that these people had tagged life. A joke, a fathom, a ghost, a dream, and a fantasy. This is what they had called it. In their minds was an ideal which would never exist. A world of spirits which would never awaken in reality. This was a place of unknowns. A place where you never knew what was going to happen next. This was mystery, revenge, hate, and death all mixed together. It was the battle of disillusionment with no clear victor. And yet some manage to question the fact of a war without a conqueror. Look around you. Look about. IS there a winner? “A winner, but of course,” you say. She laughed. A joke. That is what this was - a great big belly shake. The dying deader, the sick sicker, and the poor poorer. Yet they claimed there was a victor. “But of course,” some said, “the good always conquers the evil in the end.” Yeah, in the world of idealism. So what was good? Or better yet, who was good? Those who oppressed the poor to give to the poor? Those who stole from the poor to give to the poor? Or those who suppressed the cries of the poor to exalt the needs of the poor? Hmm, she thought. Honestly, where is the victor? Can you find him? Can you see, hear, and feel him? Idealist no more. Step into reality. It is my plight everyday, she claimed. It is the path which I trudge with each and every step. It is the sun in my sunrise and moon in the evening. It is what I call life, she cried…… Her head dropped down to her chest and she heaved the last sobs away as she turned to leave. Aaaa, she thought, before long here she would stand to question yet another truth of life. It was a ritual, a habit which would not be broken with time for time herself followed the superficial pattern of their world. She too was a beast in the war, although seeming to partake of neither side…..