July 31st, 2009 17:38 EST
The Way It Is
No act of heroism is remembered forever and even fewer are known. It can only end bad when one chooses self sacrifice in a fit of altruistic glory, bad for them. There is no glory in sacrifice, for behind every innocent face that begs for your aid is a Dorian Gray baying for your blood.
In vain are tears shed upon the earth for one`s return to Rome, for to Rome all roads lead and there all of the Earth`s filth is gathered. And one has to ask the question if it is all worth it beyond the moment of insanity and beyond the fit of love and hate for none and all. But as they say, hope begins in the darkness and with hope one decides that the world is worth the blood shed for it.
Think before you charge yourself with a blind and ravenous desire to save those around you, for it is only natural for them to woo you into thinking that they are in need of saving. In the end, no good deed remains unpunished and the question of time lingers whether you are truly forgotten.
No matter what the mark of your deed is upon Rome`s eternal flames and inscriptions in stone, the truth is simple. Not a single hero can stand the test of time, for it is the enemy of memory and with it, generations and ideals change, shattering the word heroism " into its antithesis of farce ". Sooner or later, some feckless Trojan shall leap upon the tomb of Great Achilles and proudly recount the day he was slain.
That day is the one when sanctity is defiled and greatness turns to shame. No name can live forever, for envious tongues slither through the sands of time like poison. There is no escape from their slander and the crowd is too blinded by the moment of ridicule to recall what greatness a moment of heroism left in time was meant to be.
The mindless swarm of ingrates armed with disparage will inevitably come to replace the grateful and reverend rememberers who came to lay flowers at a hero`s timeless tomb. That is the inevitability of time and that is what everyone should remember before laying down his life.
No matter what the scum of ages may concoct, there will always be those courageous enough to brave death and time, to look danger in the eye and laugh a siege to scorn. Altruistic and zealous they may be, but in the end it is time that weeds away the week and reveals the strong only to spit upon the hero`s tomb itself and prove its might in the eyes of shifting minds.
That is the victory of time, and its power to trample deeds of greatness before they even rise is unparallel.