Delineating the depths of desolation…
Desolation holds in it a silent plea for understanding - a yearning to be seen and acknowledged beyond the fractured surface of existence
At the core of the desolations that plague one, often there is a cacophony of disappointments.
The spirit languishes in the debris of lost opportunities and dashed expectations as each fragment of one's being carries the weight of experiences that have weathered their resilience, leaving them bereft of the buoyancy of optimism.
It extends beyond the mere confines of external circumstances and delves into the inner self where emotions rage unabated.
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As so, a person is besieged by a sense of isolation, as if trapped within the confines of their own lachrymose.
And a wall of woes is built - shielding from the world yet suffocating with emptiness.
Rage, regret and remorse form a troika just like that of the terrible trio of grief, greed and guilt, and become constant companions, spectres that remind of the roads not taken and the doings that led to the undoing.
Yet that canvas of chaos also holds a poignant beauty—a certain rawness that emanates from the cracks in the farce, façade and farragoes.
Something Russian author Fyodor Dostoevsky delineated and depicted in his two seminal works of literature - Crime and Punishment (1966) and The Brothers Karamazov (1880).
Pivoting on the pretence of pessimism Dostoevsky's characters - besieged by internal turmoil and external circumstances, encapsulate the essence of desolation in its myriad forms.
Rodion Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment, embodies the disintegration of a man's soul under the weight of his own moral transgressions.
The shattered psyche - torn between a desire for extraordinary significance and the haunting guilt of a heinous act, abbreviates the grief of a man estranged from his own moral compass.
Ivan Karamazov in The Brothers Karamazov suffers from a sadness resulting from the abandonment of faith and the inability to reconcile the existence of suffering with the notion of a benevolent deity.
His lamentation, famously encapsulated in the phrase "If there is no God, everything is permitted," echoes the anguish of a man grappling with the absence of moral absolutes in an indifferent universe.
Desolation holds in it a silent plea for understanding - a yearning to be seen and acknowledged beyond the fractured surface of existence.
The author is a journalist
