I felt light for a year's time, possibly seconds in reality but in the variance of those seconds lasted years in between. A reminder of Zeno's Paradox as in the moment of time in those seconds were an illusion and falsified by the years spent in thought in second a minute amount of time. Yet unbelievably I lived in stasis in those seconds of my life. Unbelievably as it is is just the same as the lightness of my body, no weight carried oneself. It was as if my feet had lost attraction to the ground and sought love in the air, only to be hovering for years on end. And so I pondered 'what' in this first year as I slipped into this acceptance.
My eyes opened on the second year. The sight was immutable and a liability rather than the cherished vision of beauty in the world. My eyes opened to the awkward angle of my hunched yet uncontrolled body, limp and lifeless floating onward to a field burnished with an inferno. The flame was caped with the hues of red, white, yellow, pink, and blue. A sight terrifying yet unexplainable in beauty. The only way I could describe such sight was the warm feeling within one's heart due to arriving home and seeing the heath blazing the same lovely shades of a Paris blend. Such was the sight emblazoned into my eyes, the beauty yet horror of this world all in one. A familiar sense comes from this thought, all beauty comes from the expense of something else. Equivalent exchange for the beauty that is lived through at the expense of the painful memories often remembered when the body grows old. A fashion of death and a sensational reality to behold yet unfortunate ultimately for the cost is far too great on the beholder.
The body began to slowly set aflame like a phoenix dressed in such heavenly feather. At first my mind screeched and toiled the thoughts of pain within a field of my subconscious. I screamed for God and the Spirit and Son for it felt like days as my skin roasted off the bone into a charcoal dust that slowly shifted and fell through onto the rest of the atmosphere. Yet it was half way through the year that I realized I felt no pain in such abhorrence and I began to truly beseech what is the correct response to this question before me. No answer grew from the loose soil of the field and I laid there in silence of now barrenness of my mind.
As the third year came forth the blazing field was blackened and charred without a scent of life stirring in the wind, yet the wind blew violently as if a storm began to brew on the cusp of the horizon. The ashes flung upward as the wind picked up and as it did dance about, once again I saw beauty in the sight before me. The wind waltzed with the ashes of its former lover and mourned sweetly like an old widow dances by herself in the memory of the man who held her heart for an unimaginable amount of time. In such beauty was pondered as a small flake of whiteness grabbed the hand of the widowed wind and danced away from the world onto an ethereal scene. The scene began to be blanched white and gray as the first fall of snow began. But as it touch the charred hands of the world the snow began to melt into an icy water. As it did so the months passed sweetly in the snow like a child gazing through the window spent by the heath and in constant glorious wanderlust. I gazed in the same wanderlust as I froze over slowly like a mold that bound itself to the unmovable pines. Yet I could not resist even though I sought the urge to break free. Yet still lay I in the winter and so contrasted the white with my body's ashen darkness. In this acceptance I continue viewing this unflinching scene as the third year ceased and the fourth year arose.
The snow began to melt and form shoals in the broken land and slowly crept up onto my ashen bones. Swallowing me like the amorphous life it leads. By the fifth month I was in a sea encroached by the heartless darkness herself and I saw nothing yet felt all. My first sense was to resist in the thought of drowning, yet in reality I knew as horrifying as it is can be I knew I was far beyond drowned, frozen, and burnt. I was overshadowed by the one truth that was ultimately undeniable for all things in this world: death. A word spoken by my mind softly yet hoarse and bitter like one does in moments of grieving and soon followed by the memories that begin to eat away. Yet nothing followed, only silence of the mind and the sound of the waters flowing around me. I could not cry even though I sought to in compensation of my loss yet I couldn't bring my weeping soul to shed a single tear out of the unknown past I know not of. No memories to be cherished or hung up in a frame of mind. True darkness had engulfed me now as this fourth year fell with me and the fifth year rose to loom over me.
I saw nothing still and quietness persisted to caress me within it's motherly hold. No fear or shades of flame. No beauty or hues of white. Just the waters that flow around my limp skeleton as whatever is left of me falls further into the abyssal shoals of life itself. Acceptance has its price, that often being the loss of the world we own. All of the amulets of life fall like droplets of morning dew into the pond of obscurity below, yet acceptance is all we can muster forth, blindly. We don't resist enough or any at all to collect those shards of ourselves before they fall from the leaves of Yggdrasil. So forth we let this happen to ourselves and lose the reflection in the mirror we gaze into as we build our stairway to the dias of our dreams, unaware and innocent enough to fall for that siren's call to sea. All the while our lives drip away into the pond and the shoals accept so calmly, only disturbed in such composure by a ripple of whimsical giddiness that passes over it as it accepts our blind alms. Yet in the end, the dreams fall along with the last alms we can give to the shoal as we slip in the grave as we slip into any other outfit. Yet when we do slip into that final outfit, we cannot remember our past glories or the reasons why we are wearing this garb anymore for we silently let those thoughts slip away as we pressed forth on a pointless crusade for self-satisfaction only to lose the real satisfaction in the end. This is the true price of living accepting as we do. This is the end of our deeds lead by the call to sea without better knowing of the harsh straits and the ability to swim against that bitter current. Peace, yet tumultuous unrest in the thoughts lost long before the final alms paid.
As I knew this was it before becoming engulfed, I accepted the world as it is yet never tried to break free enough to fulfill my wanderlust for that world of mine I no longer remember. Grief and peace are the last thoughts as the waters began to pick up and with such violent currents, my ashes eroded away in such suddenness that I couldn't muster all but two words at the end of those seconds that passes like years of a life. "I'm sorry."
