The Answer:
Living is like a death on a snowfield. The path to a place to a pleasant, white purity is long, though much desired because as a person lives they never intend any evil actions. Only a sociopath and the likes would not feel remorse if they committed a vial crime. So it is only once a person has reached such a tranquil, serene state that they can die on their snowfield in peace, where they would, like blood on ivory, stand out for their good deeds. Due to the destination, the act of being is crossing many trials and creating a path that leads to the desired destination, whether it is sainthood or satisfaction with the life that has been had.
The Response:
The steps I take will forever be covered by the ever falling snow. It is that reason we strive for such a pure image, so that we can get to the point where others will cover our foot prints that stand out with their darkness against the pale snow. That is the only reason anyone would ever try to achieve an image of sainthood. Don't be confused in your idealistic views, they will only lead to trouble.
These are the torments that are caused by one's own thoughts. As we grow…we become more cynical and the truth unveils itself to the world…
Notes: This is vaguely related to the story, I just feel bad not posting anything, and I should be continuing meh origi stuff ( I can write sex there to my hearts content XD Aww, and the fluffy weird plots *_* Now…if only there were a couple female characters .) The first half (The Answer) was something I had to write for English class (yay for IB nerds XD) and so I accidentally wrote something I intended to throw in here later (plot? No clue what it is, suffer with me…) buuuut, since it came out I'm throwing it in now.