Here I sit. A lifelong search for nothing. My insides turned to mush, my outsides hanging on for dear life. So much confusion, sprinkled with moments of clarity. And why the clarity? What am I supposed to see? Do I know this already? Or don't I? All of a sudden, sitting here doesn't seem to be the best thing to do. Get up. Move on. An idle mind is the devil's playground, they said.
And so, I'm walking. But where am I going? Who are all these people around me? What are they saying? Why are they talking to me? Do I have all the answers? They make no sense at all. Thousands of people speaking in a thousand tongues. Only questions, and cries for help. What do they think me to be? I'm no saviour. I'm no messiah. I'm one of them. Yet, they look to me. They look at me with their deep glances, reaching into my very soul to see what I have to offer them. A crumb. A penny. Or maybe an answer. And what if they find it? What then? Will I become like one of them? Will I also run up to the next visitor to this strange place and begin to plead and shed tears? What will become of me? What has become of them? The questions never stop...the search continues. But I am not moving fast enough.
So, I find a horse and carry on. Full gallop. I need to outrun these mindless, soulless creatures. Onward you pititable beast of burden. Onward!!! And now that I'm out of their reach, the world opens up before me. I slow down. Breathing in deeply, I can't help but notice that there's a most foul stench that envelopes this area. What is it? Why does this land with its rolling hills and its gradual valleys house such a putrid aroma? Where is it coming from? I look around me for an answer, but no answers to be found here. Only corpses. Rotting, flesh on bones, remnants of lives and ages gone by. It's too late for them now. But their passage has left with it an unforgettable mark. Who were they? What were they doing? Why didn't I see them before? And as my steed's shod hooves trample decaying bones, his white legs now bloodstained machines of destruction, I feel the urge to flee again.
And as I reach up to the heavens, I feel myself raised. There is no wind, not even a breeze in this land of the dead. My steed runs on...he's not a denizen of this realm. He doesn't belong here. But where am I going? Higher and higher, I see the bodies grow smaller and smaller. The hills and valleys shrink to become little dots and lines on a great, green, felt-like plain. And then, then there is only white. Whiteness, engulfed by it; not aggressively, just passionately. So warm. So free. But then, as suddenly as it had come, I feel my body begin to give way. At first, I can't feel the bottom. And then I realize that my arms are giving way. I can't stay afloat. I go under for the first time. Panic! "I'm not going to make it," I gasp out loud. No one hears me, but I do it anyway. I think about death, again. It's going to happen. "But it's too soon. I'm too much a part of this world," I think. What am I holding on to? What am I so attached to? I don't realize what holds me so gently, and in a most caring manner. But I cannot know, I have always looked the other way. And then I go under, and there's no going back up. As I slowly make my way down, I think about letting go. Would it be such a bad thing? Isn't it all about rejoining the one, universal soul? Or is it all about the things that I really loved in my life? My parents. My friends. My partner and companion. My colleagues. My neighbors. My abode and domicile. My job. My life. ...............
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