Happy Oblivion

There he was, looking out at the rest of the thanklessly small universe, trying not to fall backwards into the violent grip of some other unreality. This wasn't quite what he imagined it would be but it was unquestionably the end. Not the end of everything but the end of nothing. From this point on everything was going to happen. Not all at once but in a rapid succession fired neurons and digested proteins. It was all falling down. First fell the stars, and then with no lights to mark upright the ground quickly followed. The fall was similar to that of August just with more fire and less golden sunsets. The fire was not consuming but much rather creating. Creating that which one must fear, what one must love, what one must worship. In this fire of creation he could see himself. Not as a reflection, but much more as himself in everything else. And as he looked at himself he fell. He fell into himself and out of this world. He fell toward the beginning and back into his mothers womb. But the falling did not stop there. He slowly folded into himself and could see all the little minerals and insects that once had an existence free of love. He could see how eternity looked from a standpoint of mortality. And this was what life was. Not but a small fleck of dust on a infinite glass plane set in the sliding door of a forever expanding consciousness, awaiting for the rock of reality to slide unnoticed through it in a splintering headache of dreams and hopes. He opened his eyes and could see not.