As I took each step, carefully contemplating the thousand that followed, I felt stronger. I could take on the load of others in my entourage, which is also a reward like no other.
The evening began to fall, and I shared stories and warnings with my travelling companions. I wished to share more, but fatigue and illness soon won out. I had been fighting for survival only 24 hours earlier, a battle so intense that I was not sure I was going to make it. Somewhere, you must pay the price.
As the night air grew colder, the stars rotated above all of us in a dark kaleidoscope of dreams and random interjections that would change the laws of physics in a world that was familiar enough to make sense and then suddenly not make sense at all.
Photo by Chris Barbalis on Unsplash
Even worse, the illogical becomes the logic. It becomes what we fight for. As we dance through the fourth dimension, gaining, we run face to face with ourselves from the land of the sunlight. We look so foreign; we silently stare into dark eyes in disbelief. How? I saw you reaching for more. Why did you take anything in the first place?
I begin to wonder if the man in the dark mirror is me. I mourn for the progress I made in the land of the sun. Are we the same person? Or is he just fragments left over, that the stirring of the night sky floats to the surface, so that I can pull them out, right here and now?
Even more disturbing is the people I encounter. Why? There should be no connection, but here we are. Did I pick up a current that can be felt but not seen? Are we simply travellers in the same group trying to beat the same enemy?
Like a trail walk, there is a mighty judgment coming. A wise man said, "The time has come to see yourself; you always look the other way." There is no avoiding it. It started with the girl landing her spaceship as I was lost in a nighttime forest. Although she has been gone for a long time, her care still manifests.
Moving across the borders, bad news comes in waves. As I look at the structures that represent the cities I have journied through, the repairs I made then look much worse than I ever thought. My shame and shock at the fragments slowly bring relief as the steed mightily pulls light across the land, bringing truth into the corners and conquering deep shadows.
It takes a while, but I am glad when the warmth steams away the night's dew. Images evaporate and show what they are, fragments to be extracted and not repaired. Decisive eradication. Never look back. It was just a dream. It was the Joker dealing the Rogue Twilight, pulling broken pictures and thoughts from deep within. Without this Aurora of sorts, how could I ever move forward in everything I do?
Now, with the light overhead, I raise my glass to the memory of the night sky that spun above me in its betrayal and mockery. I will never trust it because the walls inside of that dimension are not as solid as we know them to be. Mere thought can move us through the solidity of substance. But I do know that this is a purge and if I really want to finish the journey, I have to endure the Rogue Twilight.
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