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The curtain of night is swept back to reveal the grand entrance of the sun and to say that all
the world's a stage truly would not be amiss. The sky, a true reflection of a glorious awakening to
come. Night is gone; its haze cleared as players being rushed from their stage. I look to the sky
and sigh in sincere admiration of the great playwrights magnificent work. It truly is a spectacle to
see the world from this point of view. As if ushered in by a director unseen the birds begin to
sing; their gentle melody mildly maring the muted scene before me. The trees from rolling hills
to skyline sweeping the sky standing tall and unbending in the wistful sigh of wind that lifts birds
wings and one’s spirits.
Hating to leave my peaceful paradise as all of us are not want to do. When at rest the heart
beats slower, the rushing riveting river of thoughts seem to slow, breathing deeply daring to take
one's chance with the audience of people outside seems perilous. I watch the dew dry on the
emerald blades of grass and disinclined to leave my paradise but simultaneously compelled by
curiosity to leave.
The gateway looms over me, the shadow of its undeterminable contents haunting my thoughts
for what feels like hours. Bracing oneself, gathering courage like a sheep herder gathers his
flock, I breathe and let go. Stepping through is much easier than consideration. Having left my
home,the place in which I find myself is not entirely foreign to me, yet after so long it feels as if
I am transported into another world, one much more alien than I had previously suspected. I look
around in wonder and horror. Great and colorful boxes zooming past screaming with their
volume. The silence is no more. Now washing over me is this wave of wailing yet indescribable
nonsense that pulls one under its thrall by slowly luring its prey with curiosities unknown,
unseen, unnoticed, with and underlying quality of danger. The strange and nearly unidentifiable
beings rushing past, sneaking past you surreal. It stalks you. Sharpening its teeth and claws in
relative silence.
The fog of this loud place like the subtle poisonous breath of the monster.
The silver claws raised towards my once perfect sky in silent attack. The sky once bright and
loving leers at me with unrecognizable sorrow, anger and sickness. The sun once so bright is
overshadowed by the clouds, the monsters' minions, it uses to corrupt me. I am frozen in fear,
feeling alone, nearly forgetting my sad purpose, oh sorrowful purpose, oh superfluous purpose.
Oh sea of drowning sorrow, endless tears, matchless pain how I lament thee can one end this
without corruption. As the blind leading the blind struggling and never meeting an end. Such an
ocean, what depth of ocean, desolation knowing no bounds therefore having no desire to
continue such a purpose feeling the crashing waves of disobliging anguish. Lamenting dreams
murdered by unjustifiable cruelty. Lament, lament and start no more. I can not bear to watch
what I have grown die to spend more measure watching your ghost and letting it haunt my
waking hours. Heartbreak holds my spirit hostage till like a bird breaks free. Feel no more oh
shattered heart; cease for sake of life and feeling. No No No!!! It's not right. It's wrong, the
monster's corruption is infecting me. Can I truly believe these thoughts bursting through this
brume of attack? Must I adjust my thoughts and actions to its purpose twisting myself into this
defeated contortion drawing myself both forward and backward wishing for deafness of thought
to strike me and end this storm, this whirlpool of thought.
Why should I listen to thee oh wretched monster? My passions are raised in such a way that
nothing it feels can abate it. I feel like screaming into the night a wild thing, useless rage
consuming me at every turn. Sounds are different even what was once the most pleasant now
drive me to fits of fury, unfocused and seemingly infinite anger. My temper is all encompassing.
It takes over and is as controlling as the monster itself. In reality my temper is finite and easily
exhausted. I fight with all of my power but as night falls so does my strength. Fighting the
daemons of thought with what little resistance that is left. The rain falls and cleanses the earth
and with it my thoughts. Not bearing the truth of rain the monster retreats. Its minions fleeing
with the shining beacon of the moon. Movement ceases, the sound of my own breathing is now
the loudest that I hear.
All sounds of thought are gone. Finally I may rest. In veracity the monster will rise again
and so will the useless and perpetual cycle that claims me. The monster has always been and will
always remain. The cycle and monster partners in a war with my will; neither one will surrender
until the other is defeated. The immortal monster is known to many and defeated by a scarce few.
More often than not the immortal monster wins. As long as I draw breath I will fight this
monster. Knowing that this monster is by far more tenacious than I. my refusal to give in can
only last so long, eventually I must conquer this monster or it will conquer me.
The end.