Most think that Hell is loud,

Where the screams of the sinful echoes,

And the torturer's mind is their as a cover.

Some think Hell is murmurous,

That it only exists in the whispers of other.

A few think Hell be about their wants,

And their inability to attain their wildest desire.

But real Hell is quiet,

So quiet, that you can hear your heartbeat,

So quiet, that you only hear your heart beats.

They often told me, ‘the grass is not greener on the other side, so struggle and sow to make your fortune here.’

I did not believe them. For our grass colored yellow under the sun, with its golden flakes quivered like flames under the summer sun, with its heat could burn the eyes from a single glance, no need for a spark there.

So I questioned, and I struggled.

And as time went by, my questions wavered for all I saw was the yellow of our grass, never the green. But I struggled all the same, for it is in sowing shall our fortune be made.

And one day, I woke in a field of green, where the wind blew with the sound of the sirens, and the sun kissed one’s mind with a maiden’s touch.

As I stood there, still struggling, an old question came to mind, is the grass really greener on the other side?

The answer sent a black pit into my stomach, so I chose to say, this is not grass, for it is too green and my grass is yellow, it could not get any greener than what it is.

And I struggled some more, for even if I am in a field of not-grass green, I still need to sow for my fortune to be made.

Children are love.

A mother's job toward her children, besides birthing them, she nurtures, she supports, she provides all that endless love.

But there is a problem, this much love cannot be guided by the mother alone. It needs a road.

And that's the father's job.

A father's job is simply to be the best road guide for that love.

It sounds simple, but it's not.

If the father pointed to the wrong road or failed to be its safety, the child might end up at the abyss.

But if the father pointed to the right road or provided the protection with the worst roads, then the child can run to the directionless path known as life without fear of falling.

If all the fathers did their job right, then all the children can walk on the right path.

Then the world can walk the right path.

Noon's sun couldn't be stronger as it shined on the field, and yet, it wasn't so hot that I couldn't bear to walk.

I gazed over the wheat stems still green. I marched toward the large olive tree standing at the top of the hill. There I would find my prize, a bit of shade under the spring sun.

My walk to the olive tree atop the hill was cut short when a cricket jumped in front of me, greeting me with its lovely song. I crouched to see the critter in action, but something about me intimidated it and it jumped away.

I stood up, watching it jump from one leave to another, further and further away until I lost sight of it entirely. The sun shone ever so strongly, but the heat was undercut when a cool spring breeze blew.

It was all I needed to keep going with my only companion: the sound of wheat rattling, undercut by the song of more crickets from afar.   

Reaching the olive tree, I sat down under the shade, listening to the sound of spring all around me, another breeze blew by leaving an odor of freshness to my surroundings. 

A bird chirped from above, before flying away once it's gaze met mine.

My mind wandered over work, over life, over the noise of the city that can still be heard in my mind. I knew that all of that shouldn't matter right now, but how could it not? Aren't I here running away from it? 

Another bird landed on the tree above. It sang so carefreely as it cleaned its beak with the branches. 

Perhaps I am simply too tired to let myself rest and refresh, perhaps the weight of my own life isn't something I can throw away with a walk in the field, perhaps it was meaningless for me to come here today.

It doesn't really matter though, the view looks perfect from up here.