Post by ◎Raineigh◎ on Apr 4, 2010 3:17:11 GMT -6
~One Sky, One Destiny~
I have been known as many things throughout my life, countless mortal names that many I can no longer recall. I have mothered family after family, only to fade into the wind and start anew. They wouldn't know me if they saw me now, though there are many who are long dead. I will not be granted the one thing that gives a life meaning...because I am that thing.
Some people refer to me as Death, but I'm simply only Death's inventor.
You may call me Rajani. I give your life meaning.
When the mortals were first for this world, they existed, but they did not truly live. They had no end, knew nothing of even the word, and so would go on their time doing things habitually, never seeing a reason to step outside their routines. They were mundane, useless, and spiritually broken. Their sparks would fade, even as they passed life on to another of their own. The realm began to buckle under their strain...their sheer numbers.
So it was I who wondered what would happen if they continued to multiply, and why they needed to procreate at all. To create more is a mark of survival, but when one does not need to fight for it, then what use is such a primal instinct?
My operation came in stages, the first being sickness. Illness fell over people who had never before known what germ, nor cold, nor flu were. Their bodies reacted instinctively, in the way they were created, started to fight and strive to beat what was bringing them down. Finally, their shells had a purpose for being. With uncertainty of what was happening, it sprang their communities into an uproar. They had to look for ways to protect against these plagues.
The next stage held drought and famine. Suddenly, their crops began to fail, their resources shrank, and they were left to fend on their own. Their weak shells became sick on their own accord, and together the realm came together to question what was happening, why, and tried to find how to stop it. But their answers did not come soon enough, and with that, a finality came.
Death.
When the first one died, they held onto them, waited for them to wake, continued to speak to them as if they were still with them. Their soul had departed though, waiting for their next turn of life. Reincarnation. Without the means to keep the body going, the soul departed. Without the soul, the body lost it's need to stay together, and decomposition came. But with decomposition, tinier, less significant creatures and things could strive. They were given something to live on. With the soul departed from the body, another empty shell could be brought into the world. Recycled.
I gave balance. I gave meaning. I gave a way for this circle to stay infinite.
With the deaths that came to pass, each brought another individual reason for the others to fight. They fought because they were scared, they fought because they loved them, they fought because it suddenly became all they could do. For whatever reason, they realized they had to step outside their routines, to live each day like it may not come at all, and their lives suddenly had meaning.
Because only in death, could they find it.
I have been known as many things throughout my life, countless mortal names that many I can no longer recall. I have mothered family after family, only to fade into the wind and start anew. They wouldn't know me if they saw me now, though there are many who are long dead. I will not be granted the one thing that gives a life meaning...because I am that thing.
Some people refer to me as Death, but I'm simply only Death's inventor.
You may call me Rajani. I give your life meaning.
When the mortals were first for this world, they existed, but they did not truly live. They had no end, knew nothing of even the word, and so would go on their time doing things habitually, never seeing a reason to step outside their routines. They were mundane, useless, and spiritually broken. Their sparks would fade, even as they passed life on to another of their own. The realm began to buckle under their strain...their sheer numbers.
So it was I who wondered what would happen if they continued to multiply, and why they needed to procreate at all. To create more is a mark of survival, but when one does not need to fight for it, then what use is such a primal instinct?
My operation came in stages, the first being sickness. Illness fell over people who had never before known what germ, nor cold, nor flu were. Their bodies reacted instinctively, in the way they were created, started to fight and strive to beat what was bringing them down. Finally, their shells had a purpose for being. With uncertainty of what was happening, it sprang their communities into an uproar. They had to look for ways to protect against these plagues.
The next stage held drought and famine. Suddenly, their crops began to fail, their resources shrank, and they were left to fend on their own. Their weak shells became sick on their own accord, and together the realm came together to question what was happening, why, and tried to find how to stop it. But their answers did not come soon enough, and with that, a finality came.
Death.
When the first one died, they held onto them, waited for them to wake, continued to speak to them as if they were still with them. Their soul had departed though, waiting for their next turn of life. Reincarnation. Without the means to keep the body going, the soul departed. Without the soul, the body lost it's need to stay together, and decomposition came. But with decomposition, tinier, less significant creatures and things could strive. They were given something to live on. With the soul departed from the body, another empty shell could be brought into the world. Recycled.
I gave balance. I gave meaning. I gave a way for this circle to stay infinite.
With the deaths that came to pass, each brought another individual reason for the others to fight. They fought because they were scared, they fought because they loved them, they fought because it suddenly became all they could do. For whatever reason, they realized they had to step outside their routines, to live each day like it may not come at all, and their lives suddenly had meaning.
Because only in death, could they find it.