Indebted to passion, the flowing may flowers of the fields grow on time. This inevitable course of human emotion continues to soar and expand, eliminating the hustle of everyday emotion. In seven years, none will remember the ease of the ecstasy with which the eventide once agreed to experiment.
While the above paragraph may never have any meaning, it will be forever important to the life of one Marion H. The purpose of life never held any meaning to Marion. He knew that he would someday have to resort to madness to overcome his passions, and the inevitable consequences would follow. He decided one day to fly to his solitary home in the north. As Marion soared through the air over the fields of the Great Northern Plain, he felt his emotions capture some of the abundant northern energy.
This is when everything changed. When Marion arrived at his isolated home in the north, he noticed a small note pinned to the screen door. Written on the note in small black cursive letters, were the following words: "I have a message for you." Marion never felt the same again. He knew now that someone had a message that was meant for him and him alone. He waited.
Night and day he waited, never leaving that spot. He stayed there for over seven years, without a single movement. He never even blinked his eyes. Then, one day, the message arrived. It was pinned to the door, in the same place as the previous note. Although Marion had not taken his bloodshot eyes from that spot since he had read the previous letter, he had not noticed the new message being placed there. The new message, written again in the same small, black lettering, stated the very first paragraph of this story, in its exactitude.
Marion H. looked over the note, trying for a moment to seize on to some sort of inner comprehension of its contents. He surveyed the land in hopes of spying the messanger somewhere in the distance. He saw no one. Marion H. immediately flew back to the city, where he took a job as a unicyclist. Audiences applauded as he performed various tasks while riding a unicycle. He was rather impressed with himself. However, in the back of his mind was the note, and the words of the note - the message. He could not rest comfortably at night, not knowing the meaning of the message.
After three months of restlessness and unease, he finally said to himself, "To Hell with it," and threw the note into the trash can. Unfortunately for him, this did little to solve his problem, and he ended up dying thirty-one years later, thinking of the contents of the note, and not knowing the meaning of anything at all. The last words that Marion H. uttered prior to his demise were considered very poetic and grand - the mad ravings of a lunatic: the first paragraph of this story.