What is a man!
O, how wondrous is a man, a vessel of so many experiences, beliefs, and decisions!
Eyes which have looked upon the world with awe and amazement, and which have shed tears of sorrow at the tragedy beheld.
Ears which have heard sounds for the first time, and which have been closed at the most important times.
Hands that have conquered the large world of one’s own backyard, and then have taken from the forbidden tree to eat its fruit thereof.
Fingers that have wiped away the tears of many eyes, and have brought tears to many more.
A spirit so heroic it would charge to certain death upon command, so wicked it can not give itself for the sake of another.
A mind so creative it can build a world, and so deprived it can forget it.
A will so strong it can never be conquered, and so weak it can never conquer itself.
His laughter echoes through the hall of ages, and his cries water the desert.
His thoughts tower far above the earth, sinking him beneath it.
He realizes beauty for the first time through the smile of a girl, and ugliness through her lies.
He remembers the beginning of time, and so quickly disregards the end.
He spends his youth longing for older age, and his old age longing for youth.
Oh how wondrous is a dead man—a broken pot from which spills so many experiences, beliefs, and decisions!
Is he a tragedy, or a comedy? A love story or a murder mystery?
Perhaps there is no genre that can define him, for he is a man. A mixture of predator and prey—both angel and beast; the only one who can decide to rise above, and the only one who chooses to fall beneath.
Praeter unum, qui superat, et resurrexit, et ascendit…