Lost Souls; Awakening.

It was like walking through a maze.
Trying to understand what made everything tick. Figuring out life, the inconsistency of it all.

It was breaking their backs as they questioned the struggle to win.
Why they had to persevere, wallow in grief just to stand out and be victors.

It was drowning, sinking as if an anchor was tied to their throats.
A heavy noose, burning, etching its claw marks on their throats whilst rubbing them raw.
However they wore the marks like crowns, showing all and sundry that they had been through hell. That they were neither winners nor losers, but survivors.

It was being a slave to the masters. Chain and ball to decorate their ankles, prisoners.
They were their own guards holding the weapons that'd maim and kill them if they wandered from this path they had drawn.
This wide and confusing corridor of thorns and sharp rocks. A myriad, intricate forest of everything sinister and dark, full of chilling moans and groans...Sometimes whispers filled with sorrow, but never laughter, for mirth was a myth here.

It was the promises of heaven, beauty everlasting, gold, riches, delicacies of the flesh and charms that only kings were privy to. All this if you were willing to sell yourself body, mind and soul.
Only if you'd shed your humanity for this mask, and always don it like a medal on your sleeve.
To show and entice others to join this fallacy. Recruit other wayward weary souls. More energy; fodder for this beast to feed on.

It picked the best: those who were hungry and felt like they deserved it all, the good looking, the achievers and those with great ambition.
They were sucked in. 'Taste this', they were told, 'This is better than last time', they were cajoled.
As with all drugs it was seemingly cheap at first but expensive once desire took root.

It was of gods who wept, mothers beating at their chests, angels praying over fallen heroes while father's watched helplessly as daughters and sons lost themselves to it.
This euphoric mania of perpetual beats and rhythm, of music dark and enticing.

It was sitting at the sidelines watching as the dancers gyrated and moved to the melodies.
As if making love to the music, holding it, caressing it.
They tasted it upon their lips.
They wrapped themselves in it as if shoals to protect themselves from a biting cold.
Closer than lovers, it was just them and their music.

It was getting lost in that ecstasy; the only reminder that they were alive.
For they were unaware or all else but an hunger, the need to feed, gorge themselves on this bliss. Grow fat as they revelled in this insanity.

It was a flickering light in the midst of this chaos. That one soul that was aware.
A dreamer, a philosopher; an orator who would give account of this.
A soul born of this chaos yet he was unlike the revellers.
He was in touch with reality.
He was one with them but unlike them.

Him, he was the promise of a better tomorrow.