Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Journeyman Chronicles: Part 3

The Unmentionable Darkness Along the Way

The path has never been vaguer; it is nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding terrain.  There is no definition, just mere hints, fading away into the impenetrable darkness.  Ruins of what was, what might have been are strewn about, decaying in the foul mist.  I stumble about in the dim murk, lost.
I miss the light, the warmth of the Summerlands, where all was carefree.  We were young then, and troubles seemed so very far away.  I was happy, bathed in the light of the noon day sun, with a gentle breeze, and the crystalline sounds of chimes in the distance.  It was so simple, to run, play and be free in that gentle world.  Pain was a scraped knee or a childish crush unrequited.  It drifted away as quickly as it came.  But summer does not last forever.

Now I cross a dark, ruined land.  No map, nor lamp to guide my way, I try to move forward.  I fall, I get up, and I fall again.  I am bloodied, bruised; the pain is a fire, blinding me. Why am I here, where is the light, where are the gentle breezes?  Why have I lost my way so profoundly?  I thought I knew all the answers.  I knew the size and the shape of the world, I had everything calculated when the journey began.  How foolish I was to even try to go this far, how juvenile that I thought I could find my way. I want to lay down my burdens, and just stop blundering about in the pitch black darkness of this never ending night.

Hamlet’s lament comes to mind, and I wonder if just surrendering to the darkness is the end to all of this.  The bogeymen, just beyond my reach, murmur in the ebon dark.  They speak in wretched voices, saying things dark and malicious.  Their venomous tirades try to pull me into those places that I do not want to tread.  I don’t want to go down this road anymore.  I don’t want to be here anymore, I refuse to give in today.  Tomorrow may be different, but today, now, I keep feeling my way, looking forward to the light, continuing my journey to the west.  I will welcome dawn, when it comes.  The bogeymen will turn into piles of clothes on the backs of chairs, their words mere echoes in the unmentionable darkness along the way.

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