I
remain as I am, mired in a mesh of gray, waiting for the road to end, waiting
for the light to ebb. I cannot help but be overwrought by the inconsequence of
the various seconds I have lived. It is a matter of great intricacy of thought
to enable such insignificance to be.
There
is always light at the end of the tunnel. One has yet to reach the end to bear
such light. What if fate disavows such an assumption? What if your end comes
before the end?
I
tread softly, for the road is marred. For me, any road, all roads, are marred.
For it is not the road, not the path, which is riddled with flaws; it is I, the
one who walks, who is shackled with doubt.
I
can not walk anymore. Hence I crawl. Crawl to my oblivion. There is none where
there was little; hope has perished and desire no longer burns. Without desire,
there is no end to the means…and no means desired for no end.
Why
don’t I stop? Stand still and wait…Why do I not unburden when I know what lies
in fate?
I
have long stopped caring and I continue to lie. As I have long stood still
watching the worlds pass by. And yet I tread…yet I crawl…yet I walk……always…I
fall.
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