Located on the mountain of Ashibahara was the abode of the Sages.
It housed men of different beliefs, cultures, and all walks from around the world. With the only thing in common, was their pursuit towards fulfillment.
In a room where the calming incense burned, one such sage was seated in a trance like state.
Sitting cross legged with his gaze beneath the eyelids seemingly observing the world with all its mysteries bare for him. The clouds parted for him to see what is beyond. Different concepts like puzzle started coming in place. This jumbled mess of knowledge which even if others knew would not be able to see its essence, but for him it started to make a form.
Chaos. The chaos crept from the corners and then all started to crumble. Holding the resemblance to the form it was reaching for, it drifted to something different. Inches away from truth he ever so sought. Just when everything started to make sense. Afraid, he reached out and... It was gone. Like he blinked, and what faced him next was the ever present chaos. With the silence of the crowded streets, pain of losing something, with numbness of the aftershock. Bettersweet. It was devouring and he had to resist. He can't let it eat away his peace. He tried to understand why it led to this. What the world was trying to show him.
Despair started taking over. It consumed his entire being. As what he aspired towards was drifting away, he started to sob. Sadness washed over him, as darkness at twilight. Then the whispers of his own understanding brought a pang to his conscience. In this state where time seemed to have stopped, a spark appeared, which tiny yet seemed to have the potential to ignite the world. But even with this new found thirst, the despair was still present. He reproached himself as the construct of all his wisdom crumbled upon itself. Down to his foundation he seemed to understand something but felt more confused. As the winter clouds cloud the sun, the truth hides behind the curtain, tantalizing him with its shadow. He reached out but it was never in his grasp, felt close yet so... So far. At the end of his life when he felt he found his fulfillment, it all went away in a blink.
Just when the noise was at its peak. He saw it, he saw hope. At a small instance where chaos and order co-existed just for a moment. He chased that feeling, that fraction of time. He was exophoric as he pored the last of his being into that single thought.
He opened his eyes, now everything was in a different light to him. He marveled as his humble room looked so much more beautiful and wondered what the rest of the world would be like.
Nobody ever found him after that day. They wondered where the man might have gone at his dieing days. Was it to find something, or was it to just wander, or was he gone to find his place of resting. As for all that was left in his previous room was his belongings of past and a note.
"Life is but a spark at the intersection of Order and Chaos."
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AN: As I said, my works will not be a copy of others. So the ideals and goals of the stories are different. But if you want to read the story, which gave me my idea. Follow the link.
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It was a cold stormy night?
(https://www.quotev.com/story/9095229/500-Word-Stories)