Without
dreams of hope and pride a man will die
Though his flesh still
moves his heart sleeps in the grave…
The dream was gone, shattered in a moment when he had first hoped of love. Now, nothing was left to him. He could not attend to the projects in his laboratory, nor could his extensive library hold his interest. But worse still, music eluded him. The one balm to his troubled soul, the sole comfort in his lonely life…even that had been taken from him when the dream shattered.
When she shattered that dream.
All he'd ever wanted was to be loved for who he was, not for his abilities or talents or even for his music. He wanted to be loved.
It was as simple as that. Yet when he had begun to hope that she loved him, that she returned some small measure of what he felt for her, it all came crashing down. She had kissed him, it was true, but out of pity and fear for her little suitor rather than anything else. There was to be no love for him, not for this monster, trapped in the lonely hell of his own devising. His heart was broken past repair, dead and lifeless, too damaged to know love again.
Though he still lived, what made him who he was had gone. Robotically he went through the motions of life, but that indefinable spark, essential to life, had finally winked out, destroyed utterly, leaving a dark and empty soul.
A soul that, in knowing love's light, had been plunged into darkness beyond comprehension.
A/N: The quote at the beginning is from Chuck Mangione's song "Children of Sanchez Overture."