Gazing up towards the blanket of dark clouds that litter the sky, i am harshly met with the cold shower of rain. Every once and awhile a thin sliver of sunlight will penetrate the blanket, and pass over me for a few seconds. Then the blanket will seal once more, and the ray of hope disappears as quickly as it came.

Turning my gaze from the surrounding clouds above, I look down at the muddy ground below my feet. Every step I take creates a sucking noise, and the rain soaked mud causes my legs to feel heavier and heavier as the hours pass. The storm is relentless, and it never lets up. It seems to constantly pour down its fury, following my every move.

The roaring wind shows the least pity. As if the rain and the mud slow me down enough, the wind is no help at all. It bellows its chilling breath that cuts straight to the bones. It penetrates even the soul, carrying everything a man stands for into oblivion. What then shall a man walk towards, and why shall he continue...?

I stop, not to give up, but to listen for the answers that inevitably stays hidden. Instead, I am greeted by the howling taunts of the wind beckoning me to give up. I am sarcastically reminded by the millions of tiny laughing splatters of rain that tries to smother my countenance. Closing my eyes, I search deep within the darkness…nothing. Only the hollow echo of emptiness is found.

I kneel to the ground scooping up a pile of muddy earth in the palm of my hand, and begin to squeeze the contents. I open my eyes and stare at the mud oozing out of either side of my fist. 'Is that all I am...?' I think to myself. I open my hand and the rain dissolves the rest of the mud off my palm. '...a hollow shell of mud?' Another senseless thought escapes my mind. Then, standing back up, I continue my journey again through the never-ending storm. I can't help but notice the rain obscured horizon, so also shall the path before me be.

It is by my lack of wisdom and humility that my stubbornness has fatefully woven this lonely path. Only by my own hands have I struck a chord with the devil's minions. It is by my own lips have I uttered nothing but deceitful filth. What have I done to deserve what has been done for me? The wind whistles passed my ears and the pelting rain continues. With the back of my left hand, I wipe a stream of snot escaping my nose. Desperately, my legs continue to move forward through this muddy land. 'What have I done for you?' I whisper.

I stop once again as my heart begins to pound heavy. Clutching my chest with one hand, the veins in my arms surface like rivers as the flow of blood in my body begins to rapidly race throughout. Letting out a gasp of suffocating air, I reach for my sword. Unsheathing it from its place, I hold it tightly in front of me as I try to regain my breath. The sword shakes in my clinched hand, and I succumb to the sheer weight of suffocation. I cannot help but fall to my knees holding the sword in one hand and clutching my chest with the other, as the rain pounds its fury on my helpless body. Finally, taking in a deep breath, I bellow out a cry. "Fight me you cowardly beast!" As it holds me tightly in its grasp, this beast shields my eyes day by day so that I may not see the light. It covers my ears so that I may not hear the trumpet sounds. But most of all, it tears me asunder from within, slashing away at my heart and soul. The horizon begins to blur, and everything but the pelting rain is all I hear. My sword drops out of my hand and I am suddenly paralyzed. Helpless, I topple over and hit the ground. Before the darkness consumes me, I fix my eyes on my sword...