The mind of the individual, no, the creativity of the mind is divorced from the physical realm by fleshly desires.
If one could be the protagonist of the entire worlds population, what would that world look like? We try to comprehend the idea of how and why the world is moving in the direction that it is going, and some part of us, a small but revelatory portion of our psyche demands the wonderment of life that we have lost. In meditation of love, and other things that cannot be purchased, we can experience enlightenment beyond attainment. That enlightenment is then crushed by our need to work and provide, and sleep, and repeating those infinitely repeating practices until we are dull and without care of the unknown.
Perhaps, well as the old philosophers of days past have elucidated, there is an invisible existentialism that we have all but lost in our day to day wanderings, and gettings.
What is life? Why is life? How does one accomplish life without discerning the whats and the whys?
I know not of another man's life and hardships other than what I know of mine own. Hardship declares joy as it's dessert, as laziness declares depression. Not that depression won't come to any soul that lives and breathes, but as a reward, nay, I shall not and cannot partake in such a disorder.
Within the noble and proud, there is immense hardship and labor, such that the common man cannot and refuses all together to comprehend. Does that man of nobility then because of his common counterparts, refuse to be noble, and proud? Not by any means does the mind and thoughts of the common encroach on the reward of the noble and mighty of stature.
The protagonist in my story is a noble man. A man wrought with hardship and labor.
