Wake not the Sleeper

Once upon a time, in the tranquil town of Verdant Vale, lived a man named Eldon. Eldon was a dreamer; his most cherished reverie was the image of a woman, his perfect woman. She was a radiance personified – a beguiling amalgamation of beauty, kindness, and gentleness. Her love for him was potent, unwavering, illuminating his life like the Northern Star.

As the cosmos danced, Eldon’s dream took a miraculous turn. The woman emerged from the misty margins of his dreams, transforming into a tangible reality. Her love enveloped him like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. She loved him entirely, a love so profound it felt as if she held his very soul in her delicate hands. Eldon was submerged in an ocean of happiness, a feeling so unadulterated that it was ethereal.

However, as the days turned into months, a strange discontent began to creep into Eldon’s heart. The boundless happiness began to fade. He started to feel stifled in the perfection they shared, like a bird trapped in a golden cage. The woman was a perfect sphere; she had no flaws, no quirks. Eldon found himself longing for some peculiarity, something that would break the monotony of their perfection.

To him, the sphere seemed to be everywhere, like an omnipresent entity, a constant reminder of the elusive happiness he was failing to grasp. Perfection felt less like a blessing and more like an insurmountable yoke around his neck, weighing him down with every passing day.

So, Eldon made a choice. He decided to burrow into the sphere, to search for something different, something less perfect but more tangible. He longed for the thrill of spontaneity, for the touch of unpredictability that could spark joy in his life again.

His actions did not go unnoticed. She, the woman of his dreams, felt his restlessness, his yearning for something beyond her perfect love. But instead of ire, she looked at him with eyes full of understanding and forgave him. For she understood that perfection was a tricky illusion, one that promised eternal happiness but seldom delivered.

But her forgiveness came with a cost – it extinguished the joy that once brightened Eldon’s life. He was left with a void, an overwhelming emptiness that gnawed at his soul. The sphere was now empty; the dream that once held such allure was now just a hollow echo of the past.

Eldon had learned a bitter truth: happiness isn’t about perfection; it’s about cherishing the imperfections, embracing the quirks, and finding joy in the unexpected. His pursuit of perfection had cost him dearly, leaving him with a longing for the very thing he had taken for granted: the joy of the unexpected and the beauty of imperfect love.

Lord Byron