The Hero's Journey-Personal Narrative

An infamously lifelong agnostic, he discovered something. The man looked into the sky that morning. He watched the enchanting metamorphosis of the plethora of colors. It started with a dark navy blue. The first rays of rosy-cheeked Dawn combined with it to create a splendid magenta and then went into a phase of marigold. She continued her transformation into the color of the Tuscan sun and finally, back to the cerulean blue sky.

At that moment, time stopped, and he stumbled into faith. He looked around him. City streets, busy people rushed across the highway, because their world was more important than anyone else’s. He thought to himself, “God…is this all there is?” He pictured creation in his mind. How God create, of all worlds, his world.

They began to breathe. They began to breed. And he too arose with them. He desired to walk with them. He took a step, but then felt tired. He said, “I’ll rest a little while.” Just a child in his faith, he fell and slept in the earth. The earth that was not his. When he awoke, it was a new mural in his mind that jumped out. Similar, yet so different. He stood up and tried to walk again, he was a child no longer. He saw the people; observed their actions, the same as before, but in many ways, altered.

They started off beneath the knowledge tree. The same tree that fed them with the delicacies of the flesh and of the mind. But then they chopped it down to make white-picket fences, wooden chairs and crosses for innocent people to bear, and among other things they thought was better. He gazed at them. They gloomily followed each other in the lines along the railroad tracks, only smiling when the cameras were on them. They were depressed because they were oppressed by their very own depression. It was an endless cycle, he saw. Of pressing onward and inward and outward and never saying or objecting. An army that made it across the enemy lines, just to become enslaved in the assembly lines, only going one way: Down…down into the spiral of the miniscule ants, which were greater than the things they already