As he walked through the concrete desert, he thirsted for beauty. A kind of beauty, that isn't shown by women or by man, a beauty only nature can bring. He was searching, in this world of grey and black, for a spot of unspoken elegance, a spot of nature. He was wandering along the endless roads of black, dragging his tired body along.
His throat was parched, his feet blistered and his clothes in rags, but still he was moving on and on. All of these damages seemed to him not as horrible as his existence in this world of concrete and tar. Wandering along this road of black, he remembered his youth, his spring, memories he deeply cherished but thought lost forever. With these memories, his swollen and tattered feet gained a new speed, his mind a new motivation to drag his ragged body on this quest.
But even then walking this long, dark road seeing others, that already gave out or up, he continues on. And as he grows weaker and wearier by this ardurous path, he starts to waver and question humanity. And as he thinks he walks on and on, his surroundings staying gray and of concrete. This is his trial, given by himself wanting to surpass himself, wanting to fulfill himself. But his legs start giving out.
He sees himself fall down, his old and haggard body giving out and as he drifts away, he realized one thing. On every step he should have looked not straight ahead, he shouldn't have walked along this black road, but he should have explored the grey world in all its shades. And while drifting away and losing himself he sees the grey flower, which grew around the road. These flowers he never saw, for his focus was on other things, now started to bloom after he saw therefor the first time. In beautiful shades of grey, some dark and some bright.
And as he drifts over this path he realized his suffering, his quest, all was for naught. The beauty was beside him, he just would have to wander from this black path to the grey fields with its grey flowers. And even now as his own body grows smaller and smaller, he marvels at the wonders of the world he missed, he marvels at all the different grey of which he was formerly disgusted. And just now as his back touched the clouds did he find what he looked for all these years. A beauty, not made by humans, but by nature, this was the world he saw. A world of grey and a world with a small black line surrounded by little walls of concrete separating the beauty from the seekers.
And just as he passed the clouds, he shed a blood red tear, the only color in his own life. And as this tear fell he just glimpsed at it and saw in it all his misery, all his suffering and all his ignorance.
