The Heart Of The Beast----Page 34

The sun rose on a day of drifting and
contemplation. The streets were virtually deserted
on a day when the populace was distracted by
other pursuits. I wandered the city alone. At a
few of my usual haunts I was recognized and
welcomed. I felt as if I was a specter. The
heat of the afternoon sun pressed against me, but
did not feel particularly bothersome. I wondered
if this was what death was like. A whitewashed
phantasmagoria. I felt at peace, but there was a
sadness that permeated the afternoon. I was
alive among the living, but the touch of reality
was fleeting. Was I losing my identity? My
personal boundaries seemed arbitrary. As if I
could do neither harm nor good. Perfection seemed
irrelevant. Nothing seemed real. In the brightest
light I felt the darkness. And the earthiness
of the darkest shadow overwhelmed me. I do not
care about the past mistakes. I would change
nothing now. My errors have made me who I
am. Without fault there is no learning.
There was a place, that should be a sacred
place, but no one who saw it would ever recognize
it as such. But I was there. I heard you
spill your stories and I think I understand.
It made me feel less desolate. I realized
I was connected to you. And everyone. It made
me question my life. In a good way. It made
me question the value I assigned to various
ideas. I felt something new in your heart,
as if that was what I had been missing
all along.