EDIT: I have changed this, it is now... different, shall we say. Tell me what you think please? It is intended to confuse you - but you should still be able to understand the idea I hope

Prologue

Sociopath: So • ci • o • path noun

1. Someone who believes their behaviour is right.

2. Human.

A lightning bolt struck us, and into the dirt our legs were cast.

Days moved by; as a leaf before the wind; like rain before sunset. No sea-breeze, and no breath spoke of our surrender, so we pondered on a brink ready to topple, swallowing deep. We woke, and dried our tears; for as we saw our future unfold I would see many faltering stars, hiding behind the clouds. But there were few of us, I felt it in my bones; it was me alone—the bare eyes that could pierce the shadow, and merely long for its lift.

I thought I would go on no matter what, that only would I surrender, when the final of my days died into the mist. Nothing in the core of my heart could have predicted this; nothing could have steadied us for the plunge.

“Be ready, be you and wait for the winds to change,” said I, unknown to all ears. I am the nameless voice – a word that I no longer wish for people to hear of.

#

Tibet, 1950—where has flown our age? Passed like a meadow’s wind, has the grace of our flowers, blind to all eyes. From whence I spy, I see no blood has been spilled, and so I cannot bear this heartache. Where is the soldier; gun in hand, standing under his banner and humming fleeting melodies? War they say is the backbone of wrath, like the sun of the Earth, like the moon of night. I differ. Where is the dignity in a white flag?

Never before had I seen the city so elegantly. Stretched out before me, thousands of lights glowed in unison, some flickering under the moon and people, speaking in the breeze, as if sharing a seldom secret.

Lhasa. I recalled its desolate stance, but now as I gazed upon it, I smiled at its thriving endurance. That was a first. It was neither by politics, nor tears of hate that my lips spoke so… pleasantly. A cool wind whined by, and I felt it fly upon my face. It was at that moment, that my eyes saw the roof.

The roof of the world.

Many eyes glared in my direction, of whom several faces were confused, but most laden with smiles. Even at this late hour, there was rich merriment, and some joy echoing into the night. Disgust; I felt it twine within my soul like a dead vine. I asked myself why these people could celebrate, but I then asked myself, why I should not.

But it is these people! They cast me aside their walls like meatless bones – how can I wish to be apart of such again?

Evil gropes further, there is not one should in this empire that rests free of poison, if it will not die, I shall.

I looked down, past the rocks, towards the gathering darkness at the foot of the precipice. Night-tide is sweet… so calm, so bleak, so cool… why do I fear this new midnight? I curse you, relent to the sun! I think to myself that soon, we will rise again, that we will evade from the gropes of the distant lands and their snatching fingers. Now forever lost, were the memories of cheer—cheer which I was once a part of. But now, the fondness froze, smothered with shame and soulless glory.

It was the birds flocked above the spectacle that grasped yet more of my thought, for they were more beautiful and proud than any of their kin. They called for me as they beat their wings against the air and sang peacefully with their slender tongues, as if yearning for both my stay, and my story. When one flew down close to me, I greeted it with a hearty smile. Together, their many colours flecked over the Lhasa River like a rainbow, drowning all grunge and fell loom, past the shroud of night. From this was gladness for the living beauty, and then, sorrow’s anger dawned.

Awe fell upon me, and so I stood in the night, air against my cheeks, a great longing warming my heart, and hark! the midnight bells rung.

And it was by my heart that I leapt.

The first death, of the battle for Tibet.

Because, I am the patriot.