The Eye of the Storm

Death often takes before the body is inactive. Mind, character, and soul fade away to leave an empty form in idle existence. Left behind is a ruin mechanized by years of rehearsed mannerisms and social responses. An empty boat fueled by habit and void of direction or life.

Some are left drifting in hatred and ego. A hatred which having destroyed so much destroys them.

Venomous acts are always present, a fact which we must accept. But our acceptance is not one of passivity. Our paradox is this: we must come to terms with common and unavoidable injustices around us, but we must never accept these injustices as normal. To preserve ourselves we must accept wrongdoing as unavoidable, but simultaneously can never accept injustice as commonplace.

His children and loves were the tie between himself and a humanity which he knew to have victimized him. Those close to him became a means to communicate with his tormentor while acting as mirrors to a self image he believed in. Mirrors whose expected response of gratitude, respect, and praise carried the voice of humanity. This was his play; sweetened words and false shadows would persuade those around him to reciprocate the affection and gratitude he demanded. His cruelties were taught as inescapable and necessary, his love a ferris wheel restraining you in a painful and slow churning.

With his death, a death prior to the bodies, words became muddled and persuasion was replaced by a destroyed minds repeated phrases. A contorted perspective built by ego still existed, granting him confidence and comfort, solidifying the fact he would always remain oblivious to the decay he had caused. In this way he will conclude his life like the eye of the storm, where the focal point of destruction is always the calmest.