Deep in the conscious of a man’s mind
lies the thing in which his soul truly ponders.
In the morning, he sits up in the bed —often in a trance of his own thoughts— and contemplates where life has placed him in his journey.
A crossroad of sorts.
So...he indulges his mind.
He sits in his essence strolling through the paradoxes within him when he comes across a thought.
He remembered once reading — a long time ago: “What profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?”
He ponders on that question for some time, resulting in more questions of himself.
Like, which profit of a man —whose exchanged his soul— allows him peace and solace? What value is collateral, if you lose your morality? What oath can be pledged, praise be given, that allows a man to sleep comfortably knowing the destruction he has sown?
Then, he imagined, what grave sacrifice must be given to deafen the screams and echos of his fellow countrymen that emerge from the bowels of his soul’s own hell.
Being too grave a thought to bear, he gets up to put on his uniform—Duty called.