On one end of the bridge overlooking nature’s beauty stood Anger. He engulfed the magnificent sight and felt a burning desire to destroy it. The clouds wafted against the tranquil light-blue sky and every so often would cry tears of happiness on the life below. Anger stared directly at the opposite end of the bridge watching in awe as Peace smiled at the trees soaking in the rain. They laughed, so joyous to receive a miraculous blessing, to be able to live, grow and provide for the existence around them. When the rain stopped the river continued on its journey at a steady pace, brushing gently against the fishes, holding onto a natural current. Pink petals from the cherry blossom tree drifted along with the wind, some landing on the river. Unknowingly a fish had one on its head like a small hat.
Peace is a beauty which is anything you imagine it to be. In this story Peace is a dwelling where only the pious would walk. It’s a garden only you can create and the more peaceful it can be the more serene the garden is. But Peace won’t allow you in if you don’t walk to Peace. For now Peace is standing on the opposite end of the bridge overlooking Anger’s destruction. Peace flinches at the smoky dark clouds of dirty maroon and grey with spits of fire destroying the land. The sky is wailing and crying out sending tornadoes through the land, and the land. The land is a waste filled with the stench of rot, damp and putrid sweat. Dark figures flit across and small childish cackles echo around. It’s hard to make out what the figures are even through Peace’s wide eyes. Large boulders it seems to be. Large boulders which take the place of a heart with no faith. No, they are small mountains quivering and trembling. Breaking off into pieces falling into the bottomless pit of molten lava by the bridge under Anger. Molten lava where no being could possibly remain alive.
I stand in the middle of the bridge in the morning as I awaken. I wonder where my footsteps will take me today. I look to my right and of course Peace smiles the joy of faith. I look to my left and of course Anger smirks the lust of sin. I look to the maroon- grey clouds overlooking Anger and begin to smile. For even through the dark smoke a dimly light glimmers. I think it’s a small star coughing and spluttering hanging on for life. It dawns on me that even amidst the horror Anger can be overcome.