I’m shedding off my masks, I’m standing bare foot on charcoal grounds, and my hair smells of moist breezes and forgotten lands. I gaze the horizons for my home, my long lost haven, but the wonderland I’m in is of my own making. My skin is damp and my palms are sweaty, there is nothing left in this world for me.
I try to physically look back at the roads I’ve trodden, and I have made so many wrong turns my neck began to ache. My own footsteps wore me down. So I stand my ground and the burning sensation in the soles of my feet is proof of my long journey, and a sign that I should lay in the shade for a while.
Above me is sky and below me is over heated earth, I am life here and I am the movement, I am the variable and I am the catalyst. Whatever I do today will change this world I’m in.
Being the old person I am today, has never defined me, for my youth has been well taken care of. I gave my youth away to a child well deserving, a hopeful prospect for humanity. Yet, I am old today, and this land is as forgotten as I am, and my hair is as grey as the ashes my road has become. The books I have written, and the thoughts I have shared are the life I lived. I lived inside my books and through my words. The more complicated my journey got, the more exhilarating and expressive my phrases became. I existed in my characters, and in their choices. I loved what they loved and despised what they did. I have lived so many lives I can hardly keep count.
So today, I am shedding my masks and I am exposing the marks on my face, my eyes have a thousand stories to tell and my soul is an ancient one. This home I am searching for is taking form the faster I walk. I do want the shade and I definitely want to rest, but the home I’m looking for cannot wait. So I gain more pace and I look ahead, for nothing has ever slowed me down, and today neither age nor the world will as well.
As I push the gate open, I am out of breath, my knees feel weak and my head is light, yet my heart functions and beats like it has never before. But I can’t help but begin falling to the ground; out of the blue his hands reach for mine and he tells me I have done a good job. He pulls me up and leads me in. As I step inside, my hair regains its color, my hands become smooth again, and youth slams itself upon me. He whispers my story ends here, and now I can live on forever through my books. I nod with consent and close my eyes. A few seconds later I open a thousand pair of eyes all at once and through them, I never died.