My eyes look back, a foreign gaze carelessly offending me with its inevitably acknowledged otherness.
Have I ever looked upon the faces of the vast family with such scrutiny, a spirit dampened by my rationalisation and discreet obscuration?
Have I not hidden behind my own mystery, the forbidding truth that all remains unknowable?
But I have the innate ability to discover the creaking foundations of my own origin and the existence of the primordial entity, and these possibilities call to me, reach for me.
They offer me freedom and fury - and I am impatient.
I am both empty and full.
Alive.
Heart beating... still.
More so than at that brief moment of revolution, the flight from the cocoon into the birth of a mother's care.
But in the life after, so often beyond expectation, I require more to sustain me.
Oh, am I cursed, blessed or deceived?
Who dares affect me with any such undesired affliction?
The sustenance neither strengthens nor secures but allows me to persevere.
It prolongs my nightly walks where I try to make sense of the chords binding the sky in its dark canvas.
Sometimes, I remember the burning deaths of stars.
All in the black... dead... and yet not I, not I that has the skill to question it.
Such a lamentable lack of lucid thought, how that restricted me!
Is madness and lunacy the drug that fuels me?
Will the memories desert me?
Will they rise from the abyss and claim me, ever to work upon and dominate me?
I no longer dream of beauty.
Is such a thing still here, existing beyond the devastation - divine abomination?
Does a deathly prince still stalk all shadows?
Are shadows real without the light?
He has not found me.
Perhaps he too is blind or has forgotten me, for that place inside is burning - empty but for toxic smoke.
Humanity once resided within but has long vacated.
I am alone the forlorn, I with my immaculate resonance and enduring visage.
Oh, so confidant, so self-assured!
But am I to reawaken?
Will the world refresh?
For my imaginings are dark but filling, empty but full, but I'd prefer the eternal slumber than to walk on in an increasingly unreal and dreamlike world.
For how much longer can these memories persist and a human personality such as mine exist?
