Excerpt: Everything has a purpose (Working Title)

A child gets in trouble. Repents. Cries over it. The misdoing is washed away with the tears. He laughs mirthfully once again. Is it because of his innocence? It is the innocence that prompts people to forgive children. But the child never remains a child forever. He is not given such an allowance once he has grown up. Every misdeed is thought to be conceived of some selfish motive. A motive that most certainly was the inspiration that drove him to cause the trouble in the first place. He may plead innocence. He might even be as innocent as he was as a kid. Forgiveness never comes so easily. He repents his deeds. He cries over them. Begs to be forgiven. Such exemptions never come through words. Time heals his wounds. He laughs after a long time. But the scar remains with him. The time it takes to heal gets longer, the older he grows. Such is the cruelty of this thing called Life.

Logic is a deterrent. Give a person a choice to do the heroic act or just let things be, he will choose the path of least resistance. In his mind, he weighs everything by the effects they will have on the future. There are no certainties. No assurances. No binaries of 0 or 1. Everything is only a probability. Would he be willing to lose everything he has on a chance that he might succeed? Or will he save what he already has? The probability of anyone succeeding in a heroic act is very miniscule compared to the success of letting things be. We never hear of those people that barely became heroes. Those that perished trying to become one. They are failures. Losers. The mind weighs every situation that could occur. Every situation that springs reduces the chance of the heroic act happening. Eventually, the choice remains between sanity and impossibility. Would the impossible have felt impossible had the person not mulled over everything? Logic Kills Heroism.

• The fire rose briskly,
  Everything went up in flames,
  A thirst finally quenched.
  


• Freedom from moral duties,
  Freedom under the garbs of innocence,
  All slaves to Hunger.


• No words fell on ears,
  No sight beheld of children lost,
  The mother's heart bleeds.