Analysis Of Conformity, Emotion, Emotion, And Faith
It is a wicked truth that the battle within modernity is an opposition of propriety and emotion. But what is to be said for this futile conflict? Are we not all, at life's end, indulgent meat for the ravished worms? A suffocated damnation believed only to be transcended by faith - which, in turn, defines a man. Yet, in this age, is it not propriety that defines him? These are the three pillars upon which the world is delicately balanced. Conformity, Emotion, and Faith. If one of these crumbles, the others will collapse also. There are those who would rationalise and speak of the terrific consequences of fanciful imaginings, yet this terror is what forces cruelty. Thus, hardened by barbarity, the luminosity of one's mind is altered. I hope! oh, how I dare to hope that my dreams, dreamt in the delightful guilelessness of childhood, which have stayed with
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I am stolen from my reverie by crunches on crystallised slush, over yonder by the remaining entrance to the abbey's structure. Stepping forward, my dark-rimmed eyes seeking for any sign of animation, I stumble, my foot had caught on the mossy head of a ragged stone, casting me heavily upon the frosted ink of the ground. Groaning in a paroxysm of fury, I thrust by boot upon the stone, with such a passionate force, as to crack it in two. Cursing vehemently, and requesting my heart to recommence a steady beat, I hitched my breath and sat upright, my frost-bitten fingertips cast into the snow. My fingers found a second set, attached to a delicate hand as icy as the kiss of death! An acute convulsion of nightmarish terror tore through my chest, and I was petrified to my position. A most wistful voice cried, "You vowed you cared nothing of my miseries! A liar through and through! You bid me haunt you in a fervent rage, and yet you pray with a cursed tongue to be rid of me!" Forcefully, I snatched my hands from the creature's grasp and thrust them upon my ears, so as to banish such horror-inducing
I am stolen from my reverie by crunches on crystallised slush, over yonder by the remaining entrance to the abbey's structure. Stepping forward, my dark-rimmed eyes seeking for any sign of animation, I stumble, my foot had caught on the mossy head of a ragged stone, casting me heavily upon the frosted ink of the ground. Groaning in a paroxysm of fury, I thrust by boot upon the stone, with such a passionate force, as to crack it in two. Cursing vehemently, and requesting my heart to recommence a steady beat, I hitched my breath and sat upright, my frost-bitten fingertips cast into the snow. My fingers found a second set, attached to a delicate hand as icy as the kiss of death! An acute convulsion of nightmarish terror tore through my chest, and I was petrified to my position. A most wistful voice cried, "You vowed you cared nothing of my miseries! A liar through and through! You bid me haunt you in a fervent rage, and yet you pray with a cursed tongue to be rid of me!" Forcefully, I snatched my hands from the creature's grasp and thrust them upon my ears, so as to banish such horror-inducing