A working miracle: to know what it's like to fall the ugliest fall When I fell, I was reaching out to help another, one who has suffered what I had forseen to be the other end of utter abuse through her reality, I could walk her to self redemption, pure serenity in the heat of emotions, driving to sway her conscience, her confidence, her being. I could bridge the connection between what allured her, and what confused her. I could grant her the vision to see what was around her, and the clairvoyance to see what was nohwere yet in sight. I could point out what was her blur, her pain, her struggle. She would never again falter to such things, as I could've granted them to her in purity, in faith, in true. A turn for the worst: I could not, she awoken to the sense of my deceiving mind, the ugly which was there to halt the outside forces, self confiding to breach our connection. I saw her fall to that influence, amidst the barrier I imparted, she knew it was sure, everything she thought, any last hope of a difference, was not at all, ever, ever again. At this moment, I was amiss the backfire of failure, crashing down, taking all things that are of ressusitation, of strength, of triumph, I took myself, the heart of me, and watched the entirety of what made miracles reality, and saw them crash down, a last look I was given, the bit of conscience I had left, uwavering, and it fell, to the darkness, that had collected to counter every darkness I knew, a darkness of the world in all it's recollection. And finally, with a vital point, a dilemma, that required no other answer then the correct course of action, and it was doomed. From one failure, a chain reaction came sifting about, everything that was of a pure, and honest work, through the thick of hate, lies and vanity. all to preserve a thing, which had the choice, at the start, to accept and endure or reject and subjucate. ......... An offsprung conclusion: In order to find the heart of meaning in any thing, a degree of acceptance determines how deep the meaning goes. Meaning, the values that make up everything. Searching for meaning is no doubt a life's work, unless one can configure to rapidize the process, which could be construed by others to be a varying mix of perceptive values, constructed by knowledge, to ignorance, belief to disbelief, hate to love, trust to vigilance, and all else that follows the spectrum. ... The gift of life: And still yet I wake upon the ground where all this can take place within one lifetime, within one youths story, within one growing soul out of many.
