There is something peculiar about the inhabitants of this place.
They all follow their own missions
And pave their own paths.
Nothing can stop these insatiable creatures from getting what they desire.
Well nothing except one thing.
It is something that makes the creatures gentle.
It lights up the dark chambers they begin to live in.
It makes the strong fall to their knees
And gives rise to the weak who made it a necessity.
Some have no problem finding it.
Some take a little more time trying to get it.
Some have only seen it once in there lifetime.
And some have even concluded that it doesn't exist because they simply didn't want it.
Then there is the special case of one man in particular who just didn't get it.
He didn't comprehend why everyone needed it
And couldn't fathom why it was so influential in how one acted.
He had never experienced it.
He barely knew what it was
So in a quest to understand, he began to look for it.
Years went by and he couldn't find a hint of it high or low.
His belief in it slowly faded into the dust that lay on the ground.
He was ready to give in to the thought that maybe he didn't need it.
Suddenly, as if guided by fate herself, he saw it.
Never before had his eyes laid on anything that even resembled it.
Such beauty and warmth that he never knew existed embodied it.
And so he decided to take it for himself.
As he held it in his hand he felt the engraving of a name.
And it began to bellow the name and shake violently out of his grip.
He realized then that the one he found was for another.
But hope was fresh in him and he knew that he would find the one with his name on it.
So again years flew as he searched.
Thrice on his journey he found what he thought was it.
Alas, thrice his hands shook as violently as the first encounter.
Each one more brutal then the last.
The third shake left him injured and wounded and he decided that he would end his search for it.
In his brokenness he heard a whisper.
He dismissed the sound initially, but then the whisper grew in volume with each call.
Every echo becoming more and more audible and familiar to the roamer.
Finally, the traveler was sure that the voice was calling his name.
He forced himself to his feet and made haste to his summons.
He stumbled and grunted as his wounds worked against him.
But the angelic voice beckoned with every step closer he took.
So he pushed on till finally he collapsed in front of his prize.
The one with his name on it.
He finally could hold it, feel it, see it.
He now saw why it was so special as he plucked it up ever so carefully into his hands.
Then it started to speak, but the words were different.
No longer did it say his name.
Instead it let out words that made the man shiver
"You can't, it is not fair to you."
His stomach curled and his body felt weak.
What is it talking about?
Why did it now say that he couldn't have it.
That's when another young man came about.
He looked on the ground at the traveler who had grown so ragged.
The roamer turned it over in his hands and found another name that belonged to the other man.
And again it whispered the painful message.
The adventurer pleaded with it.
He asked it to stay with him and not the other.
The mournful message that cut so deep.
"You can't, it is not fair to you."
He couldn't take the pain.
He felt himself growing sick.
He couldn't bear the thought of not having it.
So he took out a knife to scratch out the other name.
In that moment he saw what he was going to do to it.
How he was going to snatch it away from something it wanted.
He was going to ruin it if he went through with his plight.
So rather than fill it with his pain
He thought it better to scratch out his own name.
Then it began to shake and jumped out his hand
Going straight to the other man.
Then they left, and that was it.
