The Image Of Rome

The Image Of Rome

Prologue:~

His heart had always been frozen. Cold, Battered by the unruly hand of Gods and Men. Trapped forever in that icy cage to which none has managed to open. Almost none that is. The world and all its fortunes could be such a tormenting place. Oh why cruel fates must it be so? Are the Gods so bitter that they can not grant one act of mercy. One trickling of hope.

Freedom a gift granted by free will. Free of mind and soul. Yes, to be free is all that any mere person yerns for. Freedom is a thing often somewhat strange. It seems to very simple and when you have it you only take it for granted. Though not by personal fault, but by not knowing the latter of it. Yet when you have it robbed from your hands; ripped from the very fabric of your existence, do you actually realise freedom is so important. Lack of freedom is much like lack of air. Without you inhale a nothingness that crushes and destroys your lungs; leaving it rasping. When you have no freedom you learn to rely on one thing and one thing alone: Hope.

Love and hope and freedom. Three things so closely entwined by the very pain it can cause. Love for example, something we each hold dear and hunt for and crave for. That it will conquer all? I do not believe in mere fables. Love is a fight. A torturing fight, with its own war cries and lives lost and spilt tears. Yes Love is a battle not for the faint hearted. A battle I surely lost and shall forever lose.

Oh dear agony, As I speak about these words my heart does surely know...I have nothing left to give.

In this world of men and lies I am trapped in the fortified image of Rome. The image of greatness and hope, but beneath the blanket of lies is buried one simple question. What is The Image Of Rome?