Sailer or

There once was a boy. He was a passionate boy. He ran every morning with a lantern in tow, not to get in shape, but to hunt. Before his family awoke, he had the lantern lit and was out to the unpaved streets. None of the slumbering souls in the abode were hunters, only him. He wasn't born to hunt. He wasn't raised to hunt. He didn't know why the hunt was in him, he just knew he needed to hunt. He needed to hunt where no man had been before. He needed to hunt new and different.

Yes, he occasionally crossed the cobblestone, but there was nothing like the dirt under his worn sandals. No footprints in front and 6 footprints behind. With every step he took, he left a bigger mark than himself. Once the sun eclipsed the horizon, the town would arise, and they would know, once again, the passionate boy had made his trek. He had made a difference. He had imprinted on reality. It was a new day, and hopefully, he was a new man. He never was though. The same passion in him yesterday was in him today. He couldn't shake it. He was off, and the hunt was on.

His hunt was for things to keep him alive. He wanted, maybe even needed, to devour. The thoughts of devouring devoured him every night. It was those thoughts that fueled his lantern. It was those passions that held his sandals to his feet. It wasn't logic. It wasn't tradition. It was the longing to devour. That was his rooster. That woke him up. That kept him at the edge of his bed, desperately awaiting the time the feet were able to hit the floor and the knees were able to extend. If anyone was ever awake when he slept, they would look into his room and think it was stationary. But it wasn't. And they didn't. The hunt kept him up late and woke him up early.

He knew man did not live on bread alone. Man lived on destiny. Man lived on purpose. Man lived on nothing else but doing. Doing fueled his blood like the oil fueled his lantern. His purpose lit his lantern. Others could see his lantern, but they couldn't; they weren't awake. His destiny was only for those willing to get it.

Was his lantern the only thing showing his destiny? What if it rained? Would his destiny be squandered so quickly? Never. Such a passionate boy always had a backup plan for the backup to his plan. Remember, he stayed awake at night and woke up early dreaming and longing about this. He only had one companion, and she sat and listened. She was his ride or die. She was with him at night, and she was with him in the morning. She was the four to his two. They were 6 feet on a street, constantly showing they were on the right side, alive. Their legacy was sure to stand tall. He was passionate about making lists of things to do. He longed to add more things to his lists. He wanted to add more lists to his lists. He brought extra ink and paper in case more opportunities arose. He carried the lantern to see, and she carried his dreams. His greatest hope was, his lists would carry him where he wanted to be. The lists would grow wings and be carried away by the gusts of the wind. On those wings, as delicate as they may be, sat a boy and his friend, hopeful. The one who carried his dreams would soon be carried by his dreams.

This boy was in love.

However, this boy portrayed his love inadequately, both for king and country. The king promoted early risers. The king longed for passion. The king desired destiny. But, the king wanted focus. The king constantly sent decrees reminding residents the rules of passions. The degrees reminded all residents, passions should only serve the king and the country. The kingdom would lose its influence if the focus was removed from it. The passions should never be self-serving. The passions should not be the thing that keeps residents alive. The king keeps all residents alive. The boy was not a normal resident though. He had passion. He had to keep his lantern lit. He had to turn his carrier into the carried. His passions made those 6 feet print all throughout the country. Others kept their footprints to themselves. He would not settle for that. He wanted more than slumbering. He wanted to eat more than the bread from his family's bakery. He had to rise. His desire to rise on the wings of his dreams kept him rising before his family, before his neighbors, before the country. He knew he was seen by the king. He would take his lists to the king's residence regularly. He wanted the desires of the king to be added to lists, and they were, every day. After 2000 footprints and many items on the list, he made his way to the king. He was proud of his passions. His lamp kept burning.