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This was the road not taken. I chose it, blindly, not knowing if I was running to or away. Before me lay an avenue limned with light and peril, surrounded by encroaching darkness on all sides. Doubt gnaws at me; I have but two choices left. I can remain here, huddled in fear but relative safety, for this fear I know, but even knowing cannot break the chains that will bind me here, forever. To live out my days, settling for the dark, scurrying about like some half-mad creature.
My other choice is to cross over, to go through the gate that leads to a strange land. There will be no map or compass to guide me, no familiar stars to lead me, no insight or hope to keep me. I have lived my life forever avoiding the crossroads, never asking questions of the cosmos as I was frightened of the answers. Instead of seeking truths, the truth found me, provoking the most primitive of responses. Pain I understand, anger, grief, even madness, but the idea of piercing the veil of what lies beyond my comprehension terrifies me to my very being. To face change, to live through it, one must inevitably change themselves. But can I live with myself afterwards? Now, there is no choice. I must face what lies before me, and not behind. My feet are leaden, the first step the hardest, but one in front of the other I move on. The gate, time itself, beckons. In the mist beyond I can see myself reflected, a palimpsest of shades that were once me, stretching back to childhood. A little girl waves, beckons me forward; all my incarnations step aside and make way as I stumble through into her arms. |
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