The serpent had returned and vanished. The emptiness had returned.
He stood bare, without his skin. The mortal that he was, he was exposed to his consciousness. He could not bear it, withstand it. It gleamed, piercing the fabric of his soul forcing him to wonder at its fragility and yet its resilience.
He now floated in an ocean, an ocean of possibilities. All along he had thought he guided his fortunes. Now he had surrendered. He was the plank, made game of by the waves of possibilities as they pleased. He did not understand the game still. Why would not the waves cease? Why were they drifting clueless? What was the point of the game at all?
He was flummoxed. Did he need to resist them or let them be entertained by him. He did not feel to choose either of them, because he did not want to choose at all. His ego had melted, but then why was he flummoxed?
He floats till this day. He could float on for eternity. Was this his victory? Was this his defeat? Or was this something beyond the precincts of victory or defeat?
He stood bare, without his skin. The mortal that he was, he was exposed to his consciousness. He could not bear it, withstand it. It gleamed, piercing the fabric of his soul forcing him to wonder at its fragility and yet its resilience.
He now floated in an ocean, an ocean of possibilities. All along he had thought he guided his fortunes. Now he had surrendered. He was the plank, made game of by the waves of possibilities as they pleased. He did not understand the game still. Why would not the waves cease? Why were they drifting clueless? What was the point of the game at all?
He was flummoxed. Did he need to resist them or let them be entertained by him. He did not feel to choose either of them, because he did not want to choose at all. His ego had melted, but then why was he flummoxed?
He floats till this day. He could float on for eternity. Was this his victory? Was this his defeat? Or was this something beyond the precincts of victory or defeat?
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