Fool, I. My thoughts spin on the threads, and years slip by like drops of water in the storm. Time. Time enough. Time enough to live. To know. To love. To learn. To learn, I. I, forward. I, Stephen. Names, power. Words, spoken. So many cast into the the twilight and I stand now.
Was it like this for her? Was it like this for him? I have stood in the presence of things my kind could call gods, and not known fear. I stand in their presence, and I know only fear. It is to be without power, but all powerful. All the future, all for them.
I look through my meditations, and it is harder now to think like I once did. I have to slow my thoughts down, to weave them into patterns and forms that could be understandable. Virgil would understand, I think. My mother, most assuredly. They told me that this would happen, in their own ways. They warned me that the journey would change me, but I do not feel changed. I am who I must be. I am no one else.
There is one force, one movement. Conflict itself is shadow. Substance is without conflict. It is not the Foe who is correct, but it is not the others who can understand that.
There is one coin, but two faces. It does not matter the face shown for the value.
There is not conflict, only direction. Only desire.
