Having walked back from the dark I found the light suddenly became of little interest; brightness once known soon became memory the less I found. At which point the only memory I have is walking through the dimmed hallway with half-dimmed lamps that glowed my trail. A maze lay near, but no one would enter. I chose to enter.
I entered because I wanted a challenge. I was tired of walking the simple straight path with no end in sight. I wanted to hit a dead end so that I can create the path and find myself again. In the meantime, all the walls around me, the floor, the ceiling, everyone, simply become a blur.
A few paces down I witnessed the flickering of a bright light, with each step growing louder as the floor turns from soil to marble. What each breath the light would hold, as deeper my breath came brighter the path ahead. Without which I could not see, without neither I would not be who I am now. But with distance closer the light is dimmed – silent breaths don’t count. One could only hear the sound of their own mind, whistling in the dark and speaking thoughts one would otherwise lock inside a door to never hear again. There was that door without a handle – not even a spyhole. It was just a door with no way in and no way out. Knowing my shadow will follow me through the light, I left it at the doorstep and continued away from the light to darker journeys ahead.
For a right turn is also a left turn, and things going down south can also be the contrary. I viewed myself as going everywhere and anywhere, and did not walk simply because I had to, but simply because I needed to. Every time I walk it’s another story. In one corridor I suddenly found myself walking through an ocean with the sunken ships and aquarian life passing me by. Hundreds of schools of fish would flock at every step, like pointillist artwork that dotted the ocean blue with every colour more vast and deep. This, whilst each ship lay on the ocean bed awaiting hither to shore restore.
Every step, mine heart content. Every step, my mind at ease. Words, all but one can’t say.
Originally written in 19/08/2018