He walked along this path he knew so well without ever once looking up, knowing where it started and where it stopped, its continuations and its destination. When by chance he saw that the familiar path beneath his feet had vanished, he looked up, and saw not but darkness; a darkness so dark and black that no light could penetrate it; that no amount of sheer will could one bring light to this darkness. He looked for his shadow, but there was no light to cast it upon the ground; he felt for his companion, but he could not feel far enough. He was alone, in this darkness; an isolation so profound he did not believe for one second that it was possible to be alone here. There was the darkness to accompany him; he felt as if he would be better alone, in solitude. He looked all around him, and this time, saw the trunks of many trees; not young and strong, as the trees in a deep forest, but old and withered: as the trees in a dead forest. He looked up, fearing what he may find, and saw a canopy of leaves, as thick as the ground itself, blocking all passage of light within this forbidding place. "It is better this way," he said aloud, to no one in particular, yet for all to hear, "Light would cease to exist if left here alone." But then, suddenly, he thought: "But what am I to do in this place?" He looked back at his surroundings, no longer looking up, or down, but straight ahead, his senses becoming eyes in the back of his head. The trees were fading away, replaced by crystal; a reflective crystal, the kind that when set before each other, an endless infinity could be seen within one within the other, the kind of end that one may look for, but never finds within. They, the crystals, created a barrier around him, isolating him further from everyone and nothing. They were a mirror; a mirror into his soul, to find any shame within and magnify it, for all to see, with not an audience to view. He saw his past made clear before him; every act, every action; every thought ever thought by him, and every thought that he had not that at all; everything was placed before him, as he withstood his ground and stood to face it all. His past life was thrown at him, like a rotten tomato in his face, in an attempt to bring him down, to make him feel shame for what he had done. But he did not. He faced this all with a righteous indignity, as a convict takes his punishment; an indifference so great he could not feel anything at all. He stood for a long time, these mirrors reflecting every part of him they wanted to see, and every part they did not want to see.
He stood, and waited; for something, for someone: for anything.
26 December 2004
Next Entry
Table of Contents