R.I.P. Chris Jack - This is now only a memorial

Once there was a child that stood beneath the surface... watching, observing, and waiting for his time to be something great. He decided at an early age to take the path less traveled and expierence as much of his precious life as he could. He knew he wasn't like other people around him. He was an outcast, something different. Listening to the winds whisper dreams into his deepest being, he wandered away from all conventional thinking. He pushed himself to see the man behind the curtain... only to find out that mans will usually wear a mask bearing all the fears of his soul. Crying out to the man, the child slowly realized that his tears he had shed were done so in vain... for the screaming of the mask was too overwhelming.This made the child realize how important indifferece would be in his life. What was good for some became evil to others. Although he knew red, yellow, and blue since the first moment his eyes gazed upon the physical world... he knew there would be no grey; just black and white stains on an empty canvas.After discovering this, there would be a thousand miles to be walked. Marching with the sands of time, drifting from the Mother Earth, his eyes graced upon the horizon of a different plain of existance. His purpose was clear: Every action he would take would effect anothers life, so he must touch everyone he meets in some way. What a debt to have to pay for this prcious gift of life. Such a heavy burden for a child to bear, knowing this would be both his gift and his curse.As he grew older, the fire grew inside his heart. The line between what his vision of the world that is, and what it should be, started to blur. All the happiness he knew as a child turned into pain in his adolescence. Forgetting what his purpose was, he just questioned everything. Why did he have to see things like this? What was this leading to? When would it end? He had seen enough to know we need to burn this all down and start again with the charred bricks that remain. To rise from the ashes of our failures, like a phoenix. He could be the messenger... here he is, send him. He feels like he is ready. He drew himself away from the prying eyes of society, and vowed to only let a select few in.The evolution of his fellow man sickened him. He watched as friends came and went. Love turned to hate. Ambitions turned into flaws. It was as if common sense and logical thinking were replaced with poor judgement and mental detainment. Even our advances in technology seemed to be dulling our instincts for survival. We stopped depending on ourselves, and put our faith in machines and manufacturing. When would he stop feeling this animosity? When would he be able to open his eyes, and look past the smoke and mirrors again?He now realizes he has seen the up and down. The few and far between. Motion isn't meaning, but it is a constant phenomenom that will plague our lives. One touch, one word, one thought from him will pass through the histories of existance; echoing throughout all of time and space.Does this man think he is a God? No. Does he think he is better than his fellow man? No. He has carried his cross, like many other around him, and walked the path that was in front of him. The one he chose long ago, when he was a child. He has stood by his true convictions, and wears his sins on his shoulder. Again, what was right for some will be wrong for others.Everyone has the ability to become. To put your selfish thought aside and see things the way they MIGHT/COULD be, instead of the way you have made them. We are all one in the same... much like the conventional thought of Heaven and Hell. There will be a day when one and one will come together, and we will all start at zero. We will destroy ourselves, and what will you have done to touch those around you? What mask will you wear when he comes to see you?