He is bound. Bound by iron chains, digging into his pale skin. He thrashes and kicks, screams and shouts, but the only thing that returns is his own voice, echoing off some unknown wall. He reaches into his mind, grasping and clawing for reason. Where is he? Who is he? Why is he here? He does not know, his mind as empty as the world around him, dark and cold and full of fear. So he lays there, minutes, hours, days, years, he does not know, all in one unchanging deafening silence. But amidst it all, he see’s something, something different, something odd. A change, an invisible itch. He looks around, unease filling his body, and from the fog, it emerges. They emerge. He does not know them, and yet he does. Familiar like his own hands. The boy stares, transfixed. And without a word, they move forward. They grasp his chains, flick their wrists, and the chains break, falling to the floor. He stands up then, rising with legs he never knew he had. He stares off into the abyss around him, legs shaking, arms aching. He’s free. Broken from his bounds. He’s free, and yet he stands, the fog swirling around him. He’s free, but what now? What now? He turns, facing them, staring at them. And they stare back, eyes like his own, unsure. And then he realizes, they are the same, heart and mind. They are free, and yet they are bound. Bound to wander this faceless world with no intent or need. No purpose. Yet somehow, they found him. Released him. And in their eyes, he finds it, gleaming and shining, purpose. And for the first time, the boy smiles. And so they walk, wandering into the darkness ahead, knowing nothing by each other. And once again he is bound, bound not by chains or locks, love or hate, freedom or confinement. He is bound to them. He is bound by purpose and then he goes to speak again and he says.
There are many things that make a man great. Heroism. Bravery. Strength. Reputation. But above all, there is one thing that sets them apart from the unknown. Something that pushes even them to attain all these things that cause men to envy and women to weep. Something that leads them ever onward in their quest, be that quest for glory, revenge, riches, or love. Purpose. But what is purpose, you ask? It is a binding, freeing thing that all great men must yearn for. It is the one thing necessary for a man to find himself recorded in the annals of history, and it always carries a high price. It binds us to a life of hardship and sorrow, all but guaranteeing that you will suffer for its existence. You will sacrifice for it. You will beg on its behalf. You will hurt for it. You will weep for it. You will wish to shirk it, to live a life unknown to those around you. You will hate it, you will despise it, and yet, you will crave it. You see, purpose frees a man from the chains that weigh down the unseen man. Purpose frees us from the chaos of wandering souls, the wiles of the cunning or the plans of the divine. A man with purpose is free knowing that, by his choosing, he lays down his life for a cause greater than himself. He knows that all men must die, and so he charges into the Pit of Doom fearful, angry, full of sorrow, but complete in his knowing that, at his passing, the world will notice. Whether a farmer, a soldier, a doctor, a wash-man, a mason, a king, or a beggar. Each of these people can find purpose in life. With that purpose, each is worthy of all the greatness he aspires for. You’re the purpose and only you can dictate and choose the destiny for your life because you’re the Titan and your new comrades are the New Titans of the Crescent Universe. Now go in battle and be victorious in it and victorious in your life!
Music By: Republic