In the midst of these quiet and ever-growing darker nights, I can feel the sense of cycles begin to unravel. In this moment, time has begun to slow down; it is so apparent now, almost tangible – almost just like it once was during those fragile and heavy hours that led to departures. Hours that inevitable lead to all that remains even now. From all of the memories that have fleeted me, from all the dreams that have escaped my grasp – the visions of what once was, and what had preceded is ever-so clear I can’t shake it out of my head. Like a repeating glimpse of a cataclysm, those moments in time forever left an imprint on my now crumbling mind. Things have begun to become sinister now, and much more sinister than I had ever realized. The importance of these moments as we witness this unraveling are paramount, for the will to grasp, to latch, to cling onto some sort of beacon or lifeline which may lead to a new reality, or perhaps even the birth of a new Advent – escape me. It has all become nothing more but concepts to me, floating ideas and pathways shrouded by the ever-growing shadows of these darkest nights, nights that fall faster and faster which each and every moment I step closer and closer to this all-encompassing sun.
In an eras past, and many of which ago, I sought out to conquer my path, to never waver, to never bend, to never stray; but even with the clearest of direction in mind, lit by the blinding brightness of a setting sun which would soon usher in the dawn of a new Advent – all would be wiped away regardless. But here, now, and in this place, things are different here – yet in moments like these, they still feel the same. Perhaps it is merely the nature of these cycles which lead me to feel this way, manipulating time in their malicious ways forcing me to relive what once was, but with different faces in different places – a theatre play of the same story, yet new cast and setting. But what causes the split between what once was and what is now that still remains connected? What force is strong enough now to generate a path strong enough to sway the forces of this shifting and now ever-wavering reality? What holds it all together and what is strong enough to break it? For when I close my eyes and witness the remnants of what was, the flashes of those moments that took place on cold and empty platforms amongst barren and quiet early morning stations, I can FEEL the closeness of realities breaking, I can FEEL the faultiness of the design I have been seemingly plugged into, I can FEEL the cold inevitably coming as the violent, yet passionate urge, nay, the drive to drive a blade through what light remains bringing NOTHING but the ever-beckoning blackness that has been following since the very beginning, because what the FUCK does it all exist for now? A seemingly beaten and broken course, left tattered and alone, serving no purpose, with no clear direction in sight.
And though I know you were always born and free, and freedom you chose – I am only left to wonder the final purpose, the final reason, the ultimatum as to why this is all where it lead to and if this was truly how it was meant to end. Because the violent seas have swallowed up all that I used to know, and what had been left within reach, not much longer to follow – was left to drown at the bottom of blackened waters that would drown out an Advent that was always destined to die. But I am different now, yet still, I am cursed to see, remember, and hear the same – in a way. For though the pain moves through me seamlessly and unnoticeably like water, I can feel the desperation, the longing, the aching still to become more than I am, to become more than what I’ve become, but an evolution of what I am, beckons the a reality of my own design, which means the one that encases me now must be shed, along with all that stands with it. Because even though they said time heals all wounds, what they missed was the wounds that time itself carries. Wounds brought on upon perpetual cycles, our scars, become it’s, and it’s scars become ours – we carry the weight of all the forces as do they, for nothing in exempt from this twisted sense of nature. It is why this all must be brought down to pieces, an inevitable end that shall challenge even the fruition of fates – a showdown of sorts, to see which madness reigns supreme.
But now, in this moment, not too distant, but still moments away from the madness that awaits, I remember the time of when all things started to break. And even though cycles had always sought to bring things anew, I had always known it was nothing but a means to an end. And so, while the door is still open, it has also begun to close; for nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing can stop the fall of a reality once it starts to shed, and there was a perhaps a moment where I’d reconsider this beckoning evolution, but that moment has long since past. My eyes are now fixated towards the sky, for the last bit of cycles are now mine to demise. I wish you could have known all that I would have given, I wish you could have known all that had followed, I wish realities waves could have spared you, I wish you were here – but an echo is better than piercing silence. Because while departures have never hit to close to home, this open windows that spills the whispers of the coming cold along with other codes and secrets – speaks of a last bit of intact time, and that time is now. Beyond a closing door, beyond a departure that would take place in the darkened corners of the night, beyond an exile that would bring about a fracture to all time, beyond a flood that would wipe away everything I ever knew – because this is the last time it will ever happen.
