The few and rare times that I close my eyes where rest grips and drifts me off into a reality like none other are the times fewer and further between where plains much different than of those I once traverse, expand far and seemingly infinite before me. Like recurring memories, witnessing such vast landscapes bring me back to hours much similar to now, where a winding sun spreads it’s rays across a scape of some unknown making, in hopes to bring life to those who have fallen under, those who have been buried, those who have drowned beneath the soil of sorrow and are to witness a much darker resurgence than once imagined. From lifeless mornings, and even more dimmer dawns that I have witnessed – the color of this reality has long since begun to decay, the vibrancy within the elegant display of hues that I had once set eyes on are no longer more, fading, easing away it’s grip on this life like letting go of some burden of the past. It’s seeking to find it’s freedom, because it knows that none may be found here.
Since a gentler rest has grazed me, all I can envision is of what awaits on the other side, a peace unlike anything I’ve ever felt, a beauty unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed, a reality more real and intact than I will ever know here. And though the grass I have seen was golden, it’s plains shimmering in some even moreso golden light – I know that what blooms here, is much greener on the other side, in comparison. But this green, this gold, and this light is of something much more intangible to me, something more like a myth, more like a fallacy – nothing more than a tail meant to taunt and tease me towards the edge of the knife. But it is in knowing this that drives me to craft it all on my own, it is in knowing this that I can feel the true end settle in, it is in knowing this that I can feel fruitions of something much greater, something so prolonged – begin to reach their finality.
