The Darkness Beyond in anticlimatic

Congratulations, dear readers, for you have found the home of yours truly. Haven’t written in some time, for reasons too boring to burden you with, but I am pleased to report that my life has again fallen apart to the degree with which a writing outlet is once again required. Pleased for you, dear friends, for I think you will find the following pages not wholly uninteresting, if at least a bit regrettable. For me, I fear there is anything but pleasure to be had from where I stand at least to the horizon.

Took a walk tonight. Down to the waterfront where the breakwater meets the open lake. When I get in moods to walk I tend to plan them rather absently. My feet just start moving until a rhythm consumes my body. I feel myself dissolve in the snowy winter vacuum as I move until I feel little more than a floating spirit.

Another ghost on the great highway. Now, at the end of an ice encrusted pier, gazing out at the pale breakwater line on the horizon. It separated the black ice from the blacker sky, which seemed it its entirety the great circular void of cold eternity, patiently waiting to swallow it all. I thought of everyone I knew that was in that vacant blackness somewhere. People who loved me and were once warm at my side. I thought of all the people who are now, still, warm at my side, who may be called there soon.

And of course I thought about my place there. That one small corner of time and eternity saved just for me. Before I step into my place, I have to leave some things behind. Always thought it would be a long list of uncovered mysteries, wisdom, insight and understanding. Fortunately for me, though, it turns out I won’t have to leave any of that behind. Because I’ve never had it, and never will. Fortunately, all I have to leave behind is the fact that I am trash, and know absolutely nothing.