Even though the man was aged, with lines spider-webbing his skin and flesh hanging loosely from brittle bones, he had only wept twice in his life; once at the graveside of Life and once at the birth of Death. For in both, Destruction had a hand, reaching in and twisting, manipulating, changing for an unknown evil. And it was known that Death, even then, had a brother through its mother's bloodline. Its brother's name was Revolution. For both Death's and Revolution's mother was Poverty.
Once the people of the world used to be honorable, valiant, compassionate. However, as Poverty lifted her gray veil, it all changed. Poverty went in the guise of a hag always in a gray veil. She always wore the veil because at the sight of her face and the sadness that she exuded, men became desperate. To avoid Poverty and becoming her likeness, men turned to darker means. From the first time that Poverty lifter her veil and man laid eyes on her, Crime was also born.
Man and woman kind began to steal from each other. To lie. To cheat. This is how Life died.
Crime has many faces and one of them is murder. A disheartened man, seeing that Life was happy in its own self without the aid of material things or others, became wrathful. He came up behind Life and drew a knife which he raised and then plunged into the exposed back of Life. In this way Remorse was born in the blood of Life as it spread across the earth then was soaked into the hungry ground.
The man who was his murderer stood rooted to the spot and watched as the light in Life's eyes slowly faded and then went out. Across the corpse Remorse stood watching him, his expression unreadable in the depths of his eyes and set of his face. He raised a hand and lightly brushed his fingertips over the man's forehead then without a word, turned and departed. Where Remorse's feet were pressed into the ground and whatever he laid his hands upon turned to stone. This is one of the strange ways that lives twist for everything that became stone only became frozen, immobile, and immortal. The man stared at Remorse's back as he moved away with his fixed eyes. He was trapped in a shell of unbreakable stone, with the body of Life at his feet and the knife clutched firmly in his hand. Overwhelming grief bent onto him and soon his mind broke and scattered. Unknowingly, Remorse had created Madness.
Madness crouched down and stared at everything around him and was filled with wicked glee. Springing to his feet, he ran off in the opposite direction from Remorse. Men from then on could sometimes see Madness twirling round and round, laughing hysterically. And from then on, Man had another to fear.
At one time a woman passed by the frozen image of the murderer. She was one of the few decent left of the human race. Seeing the terror fixed on to the man's face, she wept. Even though she did not know the man or his crime. When here tears had been spent, the woman laid a pure white rose at the feet of the man then she two turned away and left.
Through the act of the man and his hand in Life's death, yet another was born. Pity. A strong breeze blew and the rose was pushed a few feet away from the man. Suddenly a woman walked from behind him to stand over the blossom. She picked it up then came back to stand in front of the man. She reached up a hand then gently tugged the knife out of the man's clenched fist as though pulling it from still water. She then slid the rose into his hand where the blade had previously been. There was a small flash of light and the rose hung gleaming in his fingers, although now made of shining metals.
The woman smiled a sad smile and in an echoing voice told him “Beauty is within your grasp even in the midst of stone, all you have to do is fight towards it.” Then she as well was gone.
The old man watched as the world unfolded, laid out bare before him. There were no secrets. From the center of the darkest abyss, Death stared up at him. A cynical smile spread over his face and yet again, the old man wept.
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