Ever since I could remember, nothing has ever appealed to me more than infinite peace within myself, to see myself as a positive movement towards other human beings, basically; reach that unreachable peak of goodness.

Of course, Life has had its way to squirm into my interests, my appeals, my aspirations.

Like a thief in the middle of a quiet night, the bugler roams through the dusty halls of the abandoned castle.

Quietly, unaccounted for, he searches and searches through all the rooms.

Looking indefinitely for that room, that white precious room whose rosy light is so strong it peaks through the small, unnoticeable holes, whilst giving itself away, and with that, its purity.

Life rejoices and a smile decorates its yet dark face, slowly, the bugler tip-toes to The golden door, secretly scared that if he makes a sound I'll wake up.

But again, Life is gladdened to observe nothing happens, steadily he reaches for the doorknob, ready to take nature's perfect yet imperfect gift.

As he opens that golden door, I wake up, but for I am moments late to the tragedy, Life has already taken my bejeweled crown, and with it; my goodness.