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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