Fallen victim to fiction.

The first rays of sunlight to poke holes through the blinds awoke the man sleeping peacefully. Invisible beams struck the mirror hanging on the olive-green wall and darkness was shattered by an orgy of colors throughout this man and his dwelling place. He opened his eyes and allowed the sun rays to wake him without seeking refuge under his covers. Instead he pondered things which crept into his dreams that night and wondered if reality had suddenly fallen victim to fiction and things written in poetry books could ever come true. When he managed to drag his legs to the floor he gazed at the image which stood before him in the mirror. This bag of dust, this traveling skeleton of flesh and bone looked deep to find the meaning of this mirage, this alternate life where he had been taken, where he had been delivered to another time, another paradise. A life which few know and others hope for. A life in which can only be seen from mountain tops where eagles soar and God resides.

He turns to face the day with resolve. He takes the grain and remembers the salt and reminds himself karma will sometimes reward people moments of pure happiness. He stands a little taller and a bit proud. He stands as a man trying to find sure footing amid rocky territories. He lifts his face and remembers the reason why he must be courageous, why he must be bold, why he must take on the onslaught of uncertainty and come out on wings like the eagle hovering over the trail before him. The path is steep and the going tough, but he chose and now must keep following it towards whatever the moon brings after the sun has removed its warmth from earth, and disappears into nothingness…

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