It was spring when Man was born. Everything was of youth, Man was just a child, the flowers were just starting to bloom, the baby birds were learning how to fly, and the clarity of the pond reflected the innocence and juvenility of the world.

What a wonderful scene, everything was a lush green.

The colour of growing foliage, the emerald green shine of the trees, the colour of innocence in Man’s blinking wide eyes, the glimmer of the viridescent vegetation all were blinding Man’s eyes as he was born into a mirage of ignorance and bliss.

Everything was a smaragdine blur of joy, and the world was singing just for him.

The dawning of spring was the dawning of Man, the dawning of, the beginning of something so massive and great.

Man was once just a child.

He was the epitome of snow; so white and fresh, a pleasant, cool temperature.

But he was also fragile like snow crystals, his beautiful white easily stained by different colours, his snow melting under just a slight change in temperature.

He required so much care and nurturing, so his precious snow crystals wouldn’t crush under the suffocating heat and gravity of sin.

It was then that the Garden of Eden started to fade away.

It was not a sudden rush of devastation, wiping away his beauty.

It was the insidious, dark tint that started to blot his innocent white with a dreadful black.

He learned to steal and envy, he learned the painful satisfaction of greed.

He learned the unfortunate truth; that spring did not last forever.

Summer was not what Man was ready for.

In such a quick flash, his childhood was taken away from him.

His carefree life was ripped away from himself; nobody was there to pick him up from his own guilt and disappointment when he fell, nobody was there to amend his mistakes for him.

He learned to stand up on his own, and got used to the dull loneliness that settled over his youthful soul at times when everything went wrong.

Summer was a hot, searing flash of unfamiliarity.

Summer tanned his soul the exact way his alabaster skin turned a shade of tawny bronze.

Everything was new and everything was so difficult.

It was midsummer when Man first encountered Sloth.

Sloth was so sweet, so inviting, so warm.

Sloth wrapped Man in its comforting arms, stroking Man’s soul softly, but with poison on its fingertips.

Man never wanted to part with the dangerous being wrapped in sheep’s clothing.

He’d much rather stay lying in the sun than slave away, working for his life.

He didn’t understand the tiring satisfaction of earning the wage of his hard work, he never knew the pain of experience, the wisdom of learning.

It was not until the dreadful result of his laziness that he realized the world’s law was that nothing was free, and to earn anything at all, he would have to work for himself.

Man was full of emotions once.

A shining bundle of joy, sadness, anger, an expressive burst of human feelings.

But he soon noticed that nobody ever responded to his feelings like he wanted them to.

He felt childish and separated, so he limited his emotions.

He taught himself that emotions were a weakness, he forged a personality of apathy for himself, and locked up his heart in a cage ruthlessly, and promised that he would never let go of himself again.

Man never really understood Pain and its sharp claws of anguish until he met Loss.

Loss did not come in a disguise, like Sloth.

It came so suddenly without a warning.

It ambushed Man at his lowest times, and took away everything he held dear.

When Man lost his supporter, the person who’d held him when he cried, when he felt miserable, he was numb with shock.

He angrily reached down to the deepest pits of hell, only in vain to realize he, only a mere human could do nothing against nature, nothing against the suffering that tore himself apart.

Happiness was a selfish, transient feeling that lasted only enough to mock his hurting soul before it vanished in the blink of an eye.

Now Man had nothing, no one to look to when he fell into an abysmal fear, a deep pit in which he needed help to get out of.

After a great feeling of pain and suffering, Man usually faced a blank, empty intermission.

It was full of painful reminiscing, traumatic memories, loneliness, and the dragging feeling of guilt.

Meeting Guilt was just as painful as any other feeling.

It dragged him down, it placed stones on his shoulder, whispered profanities into his ear and silently killed him.

He was dying slowly and silently, choking under the culpability of his existence.

Everything was really hopeless.

Man was not only a victim.

When he didn’t understand how to get rid of his pain, he unleashed it onto others.

He kept reassuring himself that he was being sinful and unjust because he was also a victim, but he knew it still didn’t make his heinous actions right.

Soon, it was fall.

He had aged so sourly, matured so bitterly.

From a pile of crystal snow to a burning, dying pile of glowing ashes and embers, his long-lost innocence was like one of his dearest friends that had left him.

Fall was like nothing he’d encountered before.

He’d become adept at staying up at night, pointing out all of his flaws, ignoring the salty tang of his tears as he contemplated his ugly face in the mirrored windows that revealed to him the sad tranquillity of night.

He’d become skilled at ignoring his surroundings as he lived his life on autopilot, acting on his instincts and never acting with his heart.

What could he do?

Wasn’t he just a mere, pathetic human being standing before the harsh majesty of nature, of life?

Fall was full of paranoia, too afraid to hope, too afraid to let himself be happy, too afraid to let his scarred, battered heart love.

He was truly falling in fall.

Man did not know what to do when he met Love like a coincidence on the streets of life.

His whole life felt like a living dream, and soon he fell asleep with a smile on his lips, not of tears and loneliness.

He did not know what he should do for Love, or what he should offer from his bruised, tattered hands, but he wished so badly that life would grant him just one thing he desired so much.

He soon created something with his shaking hands to offer to Love.

It was not much, but it was his all.

Love sweetly kissed his cheek goodbye as soon as he tried to get closer to it.

He was too lost to notice the imminent sadness that threatened to sweep him off his feet.

He pathetically, abjectly tried to run after it, but only fell and bruised his body against the stony ground.

He’d fallen from the apex of his wobbling life to the deepest pits
of nothingness.

He sat up and stared, with tears in his eyes to see his only joy fade off into the distance, smiling sweetly and cruelly.

Winter was lonely and cold.

Winter was, in a way, hotter than the season of summer.

The cold was so freezing, the blistering pain was hotter than the prickling pain of heat.

His feelings were annihilated, his soul was completely lifeless, his heart was broken beyond repair.

He stayed alive because he couldn’t just die.

He stumbled along the frozen ground, keeping his gaze on his feet like an admonished child, submitting to the countless demons that overpowered him.

Envy clawed at his legs, Fear whispered in his ear, Wrath taunted him until he could not see anything but red.

He’d always believed that at the end of his pain, he would be
rewarded.

But what if he was wrong?

Did he deserve a shred of mercy, a shred of worth?

Everything was dark and silent for a few moments, before he felt a warm hand grasp his arm and pick him up.

He blinked at the beautiful being, he marvelled over the pure innocence it radiated.

He picked himself up, and recognized the beauty.

Hope.

Hope had never betrayed him like Patience; waiting for something that never came to him, it never left him so hastily like Happiness, it never risked his feelings so treacherously like Love.

Hope was always there, mending his broken heart, picking up his shattered pieces.

“Will you stay with me?” He dared ask, reaching out a battered hand.

Hope did not reply, but together they stared off into the distance.

The frost melted away; the ground softened under his feet. The sun painted his skin gold as flowers unfurled from new ground– Spring had sprung.

Then he felt a smile bloom across his face as he heard Hope’s response, amidst the sound of silence.