True Beauty

© Samurai 2020, all rights reserved.

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He looked out over the plains, the golden grass rippling in the wind like peaceful ocean waves, the sparse trees rich with summer leaves. The sun was just beginning to rise, slowly pouring its fire onto the mountains, and the sky was streaked with its colors. Vibrant pinks and lively oranges decorated the heavens, staining the clouds with empyrean paint, and while it was a sight he had seen many times, it was a sight no less beautiful.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the smell of fresh grass and morning dew washing over him. The air was clear and everything smelled of a new dawn, a new day, and while nothing about yesterday could change, the canvas was blank for today.

He could decide what to paint.

Behind his closed eyes, visions of battles long past raged, but he didn’t tense. He remained as calm as water, as composed as a silent sea, and let the past live in the past. It couldn’t reach him in the present, not if he didn’t let it. He had moved on, continued down the path, leaving pain and grief and sorrow behind. The blood had been shed, but it didn’t wash around him like a hellish crimson sea of guilt anymore. The tears had fallen, but they didn’t drown him anymore. He had kept walking.

The visions faded into blackness, and he felt free.

He opened his eyes and watched the grass dance and the trees gently sway in the wind. The sun continued to climb, and the sky grew ever bluer, ever clearer, ever freer. Birds sang, and it was the first time he’d listened to their song. It was a song of peace, a song of calm, a song of beauty, and he’d never thought to appreciate it before. But now, everything in this world was beautiful – he could see it now – and he loved the singing of the birds and the whispering of the wind.

He rested his hand on his swords and looked at the forest behind him – it was a breathtaking sight with its jade trees and mystical plant life, almost enchanting to behold. Even after all these years of living in it, he had never noticed how beautiful it was, but he noticed it now.

In times of war, it was easy to forget the little things, and the little things were what reminded him that the world wasn’t all backstabbing and bloodshed. It wasn’t all evil and destruction. The world was about beauty and goodness too. The world was about green forests, awe-inspiring mountains, cascading waterfalls, singing birds, and open skies. But those things didn’t mean anything without the real beauty in the world: the marvels it had in store for the heart to behold.

He thought of his friends and family, all those he held dear. He thought of his brothers and sisters he fought beside in battle. He thought about every bond he’d had, everyone who’d brought a smile to his face. They were the true beauty in this world, the true marvels, far beyond anything any forest or mountain or sky could be. They were the light that fought the darkness, the good that balanced out the evil, and they were what mattered.

And he wasn’t going to take them for granted anymore.

He took in the beauty of his surroundings one last time before stepping into his ship and taking off, leaving the golden plains behind. Home was his destination, a home hidden deep within the enormous forest, and when he got there, he was going to tell them all he loved them. All of them.

Because he wouldn’t be free from his past without them.

Because the world would look so bleak and hopeless without them.

Because they made it all worth fighting for.