04-23-2019, 04:20 AM
Welcome again. Let's breath unto you a little of the murky present, shall we?
I'm sorry for any spelling errors you may encounter.
The Void Words
Here he is.Floating. Endlessly floating.
There's nothing to see here... nothing to hear, nothing to smell, nothing to taste, nothing to touch.
Yet, here he is... That is, if he can still be called "he", to begin with, judging by his own present state. However, even in this perpetual 'middle' state, always being something between half-asleep, half-awake, half-dead, half-alive - he can feel himself, or a fragment of himself.
What he should be called now? A mind? A soul? A spirit? A conscience? Not that it matters much, since no one could know about his conceptualizations. There's no one else here to hear about his thoughts, or his 'inner' turmoil (if there's even an 'in' or 'out' aspect, since he can't feel his own body). Hell, he wouldn't even be able to express his distress, if he wished to!
What definition would best describe his actual condition? Perhaps a total whiteness... Formless and devoid of any stain or blemish, and without almost anything else.
Yet, here he is. Or, better say...
They are.
The only other thing he is able to feel, besides himself, is a 'presence'. No matter how faint it may be, it's there. And the fact that it's there doesn't let his conscience slip, or shut himself forever on the void, quite as if it was a rope he has been holding, to avoid plunging into an abyss of nothingness. By comparison between his 'self' and the 'other' one, he can keep track of his memories and remind himself who he is, what he has done, why he's here - in short, his very own history and identity.
He was sealed alongside his own arch-nemesis, in an act of selfishness, to keep it from destroying everything. Now, ironically, its presence is the only thing that separates him from the immeasurable solitude.
While their relationship didn't change, their battle was definitely stalled, if it would ever resume. Even now, he doesn't want to call upon his enemy - not that he could, anyway. But, even then, he can't help but feel that his opponent's presence reaches to him, almost as if it's calling in a silenced utterance. Albeit still (and probably forever) enemies, both can find something akin to comfort in their mutual fate, a solace born of the mutual context in which they now exist in.
He knows that, for his actions, the world rests in peace. He, on the contrary, doesn't.
Yet, here he is. Here, 'it' also is.
And so, he does reminisce.
Thank you for reading, and feel free to comment or post any positive criticism, if you wish!