The Man Who
Writes
Part I

If the Phoenix bird really existed, it would intensify its fierce gaze on my own destiny, into which I have soared with the wings of wisdom.

Would jealousy awaken in its fiery heart?

What could a man who had fallen into his own fate do when the storms of life have shaken him one by one and thrown him from the heights where he stood into a darkness of helplessness, discouragement and despair? What can such a man hope for? To have asked the world for a drop of mercy? To beg those who were close to him to stay by his side? No! I cannot address the world in this manner! I will not ask for a drop of mercy! I have no use for that! A dignified and honorable man, who does not allow himself to be ruled by the unjust spirits of the world, can become the Phoenix bird at any moment of his life. And that, whenever the crash may come. I look back into the past and try to understand the events that unleashed the storm in my paradise.

Wasn’t this the path of destiny!? Has everything that happened been there only to change the trajectory that I set for my life?

The storms of discouragement have disrupted my life and covered the skies of my little empire of wealth, created by my hard work. One day, I found myself, with no foothold, in the muck of society’s darkest swamp.

What is my purpose in life?

For the first time I asked myself this question. I racked my mind and rummaged through it to its deepest corners. Lost…, friendless…, deserted by everyone and everything, my heart no longer wanted to beat, no longer wanted to continue the path of the predestined years. My soul was close to death… I had already taken a step towards the last journey, an endless float on the road to the kingdom of the dead. In that apocalyptic state, the war between life and death began in my own spirit. Suddenly, in a part of my mind a thought nestled:

What is the point of living?

This demented train of thought was trying to invade my entire reason, which was in turn filled with indignation and revolt. It began to destroy me from within, like a destructive plague. In this state of helplessness, I am sure it could have touched even the heart, if another scrawny, feeble thought had not sprung up in that part of the being which dared to resist the thought of death. In those supreme moments, my conscience itself opened the path of destiny and spoke to me:

Hang on…, fight… Find the path you were meant to be on all along! You have enough strength, you have vigor, you have unsuspected abilities and enough skill in your own being! You have been gifted them! This is not the way to lose the great values that a human mind can build, values of the soul, born of the strongest emotions, which stir the human heart. Inside your being there are things you do not suspect! Of what use is a heart if the man who wears it has lost his very reason for living?

This was the stimulus that gave me the strength to start my life again, even though I thought the whole universe of my life had been knocked down by the storms of injustice. In the world of my perdition, the one soul that remained close to me looked at me with big, bright eyes, as if trying to speak to me. It ran through the woods where we took our daily walks and looked away when I fell behind. He wanted to make sure I was there. He was the only being who did not leave me when I fell into the abyss of despair. He smelled the flowers, trying to catch butterflies. He kept turning his head towards me, as if he was watching me. I began to stare at the puppy, thinking it was waiting for a moment to leave me. Watching my only friend every moment, he became the source of my inspiration.

When life challenges us, it is not up to us to choose what we will face. But we are only responsible for how we have prepared ourselves to face these events. That is when you can prove you’re a man. When you are able to face the storm in your life.

When destiny closes one of the doors of your life, it will open another somewhere else. It is possible that the realm discovered behind the newly opened gate may be much richer than the one you were forced to leave. Like the tides that recede water from one part of the world and flood other shores thousands of miles away. It is up to you, man, to choose the gate of your destiny! However, when several gates open, the human heart is in a great dilemma. Which gate will succeed in fulfilling his dreams? I began the bumpy road of writing with a children’s story. As my fingers ran over the keyboard, this story turned into magic-mixed science fiction. I had involuntarily created a fantasy world whose existence I myself had been unaware. But it was there… in my dreams… stemmed from the depths of childhood. A world where I often wished to remain. I was dreaming of that world that existed only for me. I wrote about the passions that exalted me and that the human heart feels. I was writing down my memories and all my childhood, which I could not give up. There is no doubt that the part of me that remained in the fantasies of childhood revolted and raged through these writings, which will continue as long as I remember them… [to be continued]