First posted on the Cauldron January, 2011. Copyright to me, ask before you use.
Voices. Voices in the Mist.
No, not Voices. Dreams.
Am I a Dream? Or am I a Dreamer?
I move, though it does not seem so. Everywhere I reach, nothing but Mist.
I search for the Dreamers. I want to wake them, talk to them. But They are so far Away.
So Achingly far Away.
I do not tire, for I am One with the Mist Which Is All, but I cannot find the Others.
Are they part of the Mist too? Could I be touching them right now?
Their Dreams are so close…. so far….
They cannot be as I, for they would not be so Far. But am I as I think I am?
Am I the Mist? Or something Else?
The search is endless. Fleeting. There is Nothing, and Everything, and All Things, and No Things.
The Dreamers know I’m here. The Dreams Call. They want to become Reality, become Truth.
All Dreams. All Nightmares.
But they cannot Be in the Mist. It is already All.
…..Can I Change that?
I know some Things. I know a Great Thing.
To change the All, you must change a Point.
How do I find a Point in the Endless?
I will Make it.
Here. I am here.
There is Above.
There is Below.
To the Front, and Back, and to the Sides.
A Point in the Center.
The Center is Me.
The Dreams quiver. The Dreamers are restless, minds fluttering. So close…..
Mist cannot move Mist.
I need….. Other.
But there is no Waking Other than Me.
It Hurts. The First Pain that marks the Start.
It is the way of Things.
We tore Ourselves from One into Two, at the Center of the Endless.
And the Endless Followed.
The Dreamers Woke, and carried out Their Dreams.
A wash of Bright and Dim and Love and Hate.
Of all Things Separate and Merged.
And when this World is old and worn,
When the last Star fades,
When all Things are Grey and Still,
We will become One again.
A Center Divided no more.
We will Sleep, and Dream our own Dreams.
And wait in the Mist to Awake.