Deafening silence precedes all that is about to happen, the feeling in the still, cold, still air – stiff and timid, nearly at a standstill for even it does not wish to make a sound. But when this moment comes to past the rain will begin to fall, a chilling rain, a frigid rain – a rain that once spread across city streets within the depths of this darkened, lonesome society – in it’s reflection shall cast the mirroring of the lights and shimmers that yearn to fixate the eyes of travelers during these hours where the sun meets it’s end. The death, is a slow, burning one. A sense of suffocation that throws the rays into a panic, yet simultaneously, a slow twist of the knife that allows the light that bleeds, the light that we seek to consume, to spread out across the vast and seemingly infinite space of this cold – fleetingly autumn sky.
I watch it all take place and I partake in this elegant act, over and over again, like a dance put on repeat; where the legs never grow numb, and the core clings to the burn like never before. Moments like these are the ones that seek to seal themselves into my memory for eternity, moments that I inevitably seek to replicate and recreate – moments that become part of the very cycles I wish to end. But this moment, unlike the many that have come before it may never come again. For once these cycles have fallen and doors begin to close, and the fruition of final fates are made to an inevitable end – all will cease. For though while now, time seeks to repeat and act in accordance to it’s own will, it is in part only due to the lack of lines that it was once bound to. For as it’s very walls and shackles begin to crumble, freeing it to what lies beyond ITS door – so does the unraveling of this reality and what binds me. Once again.
