The sea was calm, the wind was soft. Like a feather gently putting its lips on my weary brows, it slowly eases away the frown that was permanently etched on my face.
My world was quiet enough to let me savor my being alone. Like it knew that I had come from a far-away weary and dreaded place, giving me a chance to recuperate from my recent battle with the unknown.
For some reason, an unknown particle had collided with my war-torn self. And even the best team of doctors couldn’t quite figure out what it is. Leaving me no clue as to what it was, only the certainty of a whole load of bills to pay.
I never expected to find a miracle pill to cure all my weariness and fatigue, just a little boost to refill my tobacco-laden lungs with fresh air. Apparently, I had been killing myself ever since I took that first puff. Now I am faced with my own mortality. What I thought was my super human self was now beginning to fade.
But I have trusted science, even put myself on the line, and as foolish as I was, even bet my life on it. We had the technology, the skilled doctors, the means to do almost everything, even annihilate others with our own bombs.
And however advanced we may tend to become, or believed, we are still at the infancy of our civilization. Many more lives will be lost, before we can even find the cure. Assuming of course that we haven’t blown ourselves up yet.
The cure for our never-ending folly that we as a specie are the greatest life-form that ever inhabited the earth. But before we even find the cure, we must always start the struggle to find ourselves.
That, my silly friend, is the harder part.