31 Jan Reflections of an Islander

Time has frozen over, here. Darker Nights have long since settled in and even hold grasp of the dimmest mourning’s I have ever lived to see. The 8th sleep, has gracefully swept over this place, infiltrating me to the core – pushing me to become something I am not yet. The time that at this moment however, which remains at a stand-still is soon to flow once more – shortly, for the grasp of this 8th sleep will soon make it’s way out of this place. The time that will soon be set in motion once more will be a time that is headed towards a night that has, since the dawn of my time, beckoned within my every sleep. The time that will soon be set in motion, is a time that is headed towards an end of a cycle that extends beyond universal reaches – a time that offers me a taste of infinity.

The distortions I have only recently come to know within a deep voided state full of Neon and Noir are nothing compared to what the echoes whisper of that lie ahead. But even now, as I stand at the very end of this still time, I continue to ask myself if I am prepared to endure such a vigorous and dangerous voyage. Since the settling in of Darker Nights, I have begun to return to the path of the Islander once more, but now, for one final time. For in many ages past, I had first begun to walk this past. During this time, those who had once sworn truths to me had spouted nothing but lies, whilst outsiders aiming to infiltrate my lines.

Those times however, have long since been lost, with merely my memories and reflections remain as I now wait here, at the final minutes of some shiftless time contemplating the road that will carry my onward. For ever since I can remember, it has been solely I that has lead myself into and out of the darker ages, but even now, at the end of an Advent – I sense this is something much more different before. Something much more permanent, something much more sinister. The path that lies ahead is a tarnished one, and will seek to tarnish what purity remains of my soul left. The first strike of fear I’m sure, is not to far off, and my heavy eyes – despite this grasp of the 8th sleep, will likely become even heavier as it makes it’s way off into the darker night sky.

For here in the In Between, the middle path is the longest road, and the middle path is the most dangerous road. For as we reach for the glory that beckons above, we are simultaneously being dragged towards the sorrow and suffering that lurks below. Two dividing forces, warring to claim us as there own – such a place where free will is seemingly lost, such a place where time has it’s way with you, like none other. Such a place, that shall soon meet a final fate, much like I, as a darkness grows stronger and an Advent grows weaker – we must all now make haste.