On The Bleak Banks

Mist of confusion, a break in the field of vision. The banks of an eerie river. Tall dead grass sway in the grey breeze. An archaic raft bobbing on the bleak banks.

I'm met by an ancient greeter, "Who are you, or what?"

I am pulled from my daze, "I am, I am wanderer" slips out of my tongue.

"Are you ready to let go?"

Let go? I pause to think... "Let go of what?" I finally reply.

"Of everything, this is the edge, beyond is the unknown. The only way further is on this raft. But you must let go of everything you have known..."

Shocked, a chill runs down my spine. The fear of letting go of existence. How did I get here? Where Am I? Is this real? I am alive? Endless thoughts race through my mind.

Trying to hold on to something, any solid thought. But the more I grasp, the further away it all seems.

There is this push and pull of forgotten dreams, lost memories, fainting lives. Maybe this is it. Everything before this point, seem like a lesser version of reality, this seems more real than anything I have experienced before. Before? Before what? Before this? There is no before, there is only now. And now it is time to take a step.

I move forward, I don't say a single word, but look into the hollow eyes of the ancient greeter and let go of everything that once was and that would ever be. Stepping on to this archaic raft, destination unknown...