A Minor Stumble

    I had hoped, with no small fibre of my being, that whatever soul light or darkness that hung within my corpse might see fit to let me try again.

    Twelve months have passed since last I felt the weightlessness of lost perception, a dozen spans of time that I thought, nay, believed I had spent. I met old friends and older acquaintances, I have been alone and smothered by people, I have taken steps along the intangible line between success and damnation, steps towards the potential ultimate of both tributaries.

    And still I find the gaps. Still, it would seem, the hunger of the Remnants creeps upon me and gnaws at my life.

    I find myself yet again in a mad race, a headlong dash at either destruction or clairvoyance, the portal I take decided by a single misstep on spray-coated stones.

    Somehow, even with all my practice and preparation, I find myself looking back at the gaps between the stones where my memories have fallen to oblivion, to where I would surely follow if I do not watch where next I step.

Author's Note

Part of a train of thought that I wrote down.