Love is just like ‘Hope’, captured and trapped in the Pandora Box for eternity, we just know that it exists but is forbidden to look into it. I know that going by the myth, I am wrong but who cares? Did our ancestors care what originally a myth was and what not to add or interpret? But who said ‘Love’ is eternal? Anything that is born cannot be eternal; let alone a thing called love. Then who made ‘love’ eternal? I am sure it is the ‘hope’ trapped in the Pandora box that asked us to believe the eternal bliss. ‘Belief’ itself is a magical thing that can ever happen to a person, though abstract yet powerful enough to judge us on merit.
Each one of us wants to believe in our ability to judge and leave an impact on a blank slate which we know by the name of life. But is it not too obvious to state that ‘belief’ is just a unit to measure a person’s will-power and the hypocritical illusion in which we willingly trap us in a ‘hope’ to get an idealistic future?

If we quote Greek’s thoughts on these particular emotions, we will be surprised to know that no positive spirit was born before Zeus established a balance in the universe and ordered Prometheus to create life including us. ‘Chaos’ was our original father, an endless black sphere where ‘time’ had no meaning, boundaries between sea, earth, and sky intermingled, it was a place where absolutely nothing happened. Thus we can say that we humans were born out of ‘nothingness’, yet what provokes us to be at least something before we say farewell to our earthly? What forced Prometheus to steal fire from heaven and give it to us? Was that love? I highly doubt that the Prometheus act of generosity has anything to with the ‘love’. We nearly lost our chance of existence when Prometheus’s brother Epimetheus consumed all the resources in providing an artistic touch to other living organisms. Prometheus like an honest artist stepped in and did whatever was needed to protect us from the other artistic gems created by his brother Epimetheus. Thus the artistic rivalry and the immense sense of responsibility gave us a chance to stand fourth in the rank of powerful succeeded only by God, Demons, and Nymphs; but it would not have been possible without Prometheus giving us the power of fire, which cost him so dearly that his liver became an evening snack for an eagle till Heracles rescued him.

Thus, considering Prometheus ‘an artist’ and we as his ‘art’ stand forth in the species- hierarchy of the universe just to sort out the dilemma of our existence. What love contributes is a hope to latch on to an external source to cope up with an otherwise lonely, dull, and meaningless existence of human life. The reason has been an exceedingly defining characteristic in the quest for love, hope, and improvement. We are eternally trapped in the vicious cycle of hope-dejection, love-betrayal, reasons-errors, and side along with the tragedy of Sisyphus where the only difference is that the tragedy of humans existence often gets unnoticed and unquestioned.

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