The man in the hood.

Look at him stand in mist, look at him being swayed by the ravaging tempest, ground sweeping wave, tumbling everything that stood in its path, again and again it came.

But his roots was deep, he swayed but his grip was firm.

There was a force stronger than the mightiest of a surge of waves holding him firmly rooted.

Look at his black melanin skin, a tincture of black gold, and diamond blazing through and through.

There was something different about him, his hood covered his fiery eyes, his face gave eyes to his tumbling thoughts, his mind was a wave of different thoughts.

There he was, in the rumbling and tumbling chaos of men, among the most confused of species.

Through the misty gaze of his present, his past mingled in his vision, but the present stood there in his focus, but away was his thoughts, far from reach, further away from the reach of human eyes, Chimes of images mirrored in his thoughts, about the man in his mirror.

About the journey of a thousand paths, the friends that was lost to the past, he thought about all he had left behind, the tears he had shed through the night, the fears and the doubts he had killed, the price he had paid to be where he was, the innocence that was once part of his reflection, the reflection he had lost to his past.

That the things he had prized the most, he lost. The sacrifices that became his story, the man he became, the dreamer that never stopped dreaming.

That this lone soul among souls that this man who fought his demons for an escape every night, who craved for peace and love, but chaos and uncertainty he found.

That, time had purified him with raw lessons, weaving away enemies in friends clothing, aged his reasoning in wisdom, made his scars beautiful.

In his time he had learnt that those you trust, can hurt the most, that those you love, can bleed you the most, that those you protect, can stab you in the back, that men have become vultures, ravaging everything in their path, destroying everything in his wake and like a machine of doom.

He cared less of their ways, all he cared about was the dream born anew.

Another 365.