You open your eyes to fog; thick, endless, swallowing the world in a veil of gray.
The air is heavy, humid, clinging to your skin like a whispered secret.
It is neither warm nor cold, only damp and stagnant, a breath half-held.
You are naked, yet there is no shame.
You are lost, yet there is no fear.
You simply are.
Beneath you, an ocean of river stones stretches beyond sight,
smooth as glass, restless underfoot,
whispering with every step, shifting, slipping,
as if the earth itself wishes to unmake you.
There was water once.
There is no water now.
The trees stand like blackened ribs of some ancient beast,
charred and lifeless, reaching skyward in silent lament.
No leaves, no roots, no memory of growth,
only death frozen mid-scream.
Their presence does not comfort.
Their presence does not guide.
They are simply there.
The air carries the scent of sulfur and stormlight,
a bitter tang that lingers on your tongue,
a taste of something burned, something broken,
something left behind.
The sky is absent.
The sun is a forgotten thing.
Then, from the mist, the singing begins.
Soft at first, drifting like threads of smoke,
woven from voices that do not belong to this world.
A hum, a chorus, a hymn of something nameless.
Not sorrow, not joy, but something in between,
something hollow, something vast.
It never ceases.
It is never close.
Shadowed shapes glide through the fog,
gondoliers with oars that stir no river,
figures that slip just beyond reach,
as if carried by currents unseen,
faster than you, forever out of grasp.
They do not stop.
They do not speak.
They simply pass.
And then there is the presence…
It looms, a towering silhouette wrapped in shifting dark,
watching, waiting, patient as stone.
You move toward it, but it does not allow closeness.
With every step, it fades into mist,
as if it is not meant to be reached,
as if you are not meant to understand.
It does not threaten.
It does not welcome.
It is simply there.
You walk.
There is no hunger.
No thirst.
No weariness.
No end.
You are conscious, and nothing more.
ImpChimp Art 