A violent end

But can there be an end without a beginning?

Perhaps that is not important.

Perhaps it never was. Was.



If you remember it

but no one else does, did it ever really happen?

Does it really matter? Do I?

I've somehow become eternal,

yet intangible. Beyond comprehension

and also, beneath it.


I would be frightened,

if I could be frightened.

If I could be.

But I cannot. I am not. However...

They still whisper. They still murmur.

I hear them,

always and never.

On the fringe of existence,

they feel my unbeing.

They sense it.

Perhaps you do as well.

So I wait. As I always have, 

and ever shall.

I wait as time loops around itself

in a violent and unstable gyration,

fraying and weaving.

I wish you could see it.

I wish you could see it like I have...

I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

You'll find me,

but you won't know it.

I'm listening.

I'm waiting.

It's all I can do.

I am never.


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