My world, much like your world, is a fabrication. Much unlike your world, though, my world doesn't exist. I seem to be lost forever in my dreams, drifting along through an endless black sea reflecting stars overhead. I just float, cannot move. The only feeling I have is the pain deep in my chest, in my heart. It sets my blood vessels aglow and burns in my center as if the heart that once was there was replaced by embers. No matter how hard I try my heart doesn't even spark, just slowly burns. Sometimes, though, it will flicker into a light flame. The weight of the tinder inside it will be removed, my spirit lifted for a moment... a light among many other lights. I am not conscious for this, but I like to think I am burning brighter than those other lights.

But when I grow dim I grow dormant. I just float on in that black sea beneath the night sky filled with stars.



-

Gently I am lifted from the inky sea. The darkness clings on in a coat of thick blue. My skin sparkles with s thousand stars, clustered together like galaxies from the inky sea. Gently, the sea is wiped from my form. I float gently through this bath of white dew, a cloud made to cleanse the darkness from body and soul. The little spark in my heart jumps, fearful of the wetness yet happy to be rid of the sea that it worked so hard to light past. The cumulus soothes me. I could float here forever, but that is not the plan for me.

Springy moss cradles me now. My heart-spark calmly flickers. A small flame burns within now, a candle inside. Hope.

-

I sit here, my body heavier than before. It seems that things around me had begun shrinking over the course of these days and nights. It is an enchanting thing, to grow outwardly. Two tree limbs have grown forth from my head, though they seem to be made much more strong than the wooden boughs. Are they stone, maybe? Or is it that they are Being, like me? If they grew from me, they must be Being.

The sore knuckles of my left hand
The bones in my forearm ache
It hurts

13 hours of sleep
Still tired
Work to do
Time to spend, tomorrows to recompense

Am I strong?
No.
Am I weak?
No.
Somewhere in between?
Yes.

Feels like I'll be here when forever ends
But we all still die
Tomorrow is another day after all

But I want to go home

It's a feeling of being blessed.

The world spread before him forever blooms in lush greenery and brilliant flowers. Each leaf appears to be created from emeralds, an expert craftsman carved centurion birch and oak from nothing at all as pedestals for the small treasures. Below these beautiful leaves flows a carpet of the softest grass and mosses one could ever imagine.

It is the sight of heaven itself.

He felt unworthy to even view such a place. The great marble statue behind him seemed to silently urge the deer on like gentle parents.

Page carved his way down the hill toward the crystal pool below. The Gods watched on with white stone eyes as their newest child reached the muddy edge. Cold water lapped at the shore, drawing the stagling nearer to the deep expanse. The world seemed to slow as the being neared the precipice and peered over into the pond. The new hue to his fur mimicked the gemstone world he now called home. The buck didn't believe his reflection was really his new form. The little light of his forest name glowed gently above his head. It was him.

Over in eternity
Silence will come to me
Where the sky meets the sea

Nobody will remember me
Nobody will wait for me
Eternity is what I'll be

Continuing endlessly
Going on endlessly

The only thing that's permanent
Before the world meets its end
Part of the past
Stuck in the past

Forgotten eternally
Nothing gained, nothing lost
Hard to remember, easy to forget

One day to the next
What will be will be
Look onto eternity