LJ Idol // Week 28 // Winding Up
This weeks idol entry is brought to you from RAF Cranwell. I'm on limited internet connection via phone browser -- I wrote this over the weekend and typed it up on my phone - I've tried to get this all formatted right, but if you see something funny then let me know and I'll get back on and fix it asap.
At the very end is a question. I'd love to actually see your answers to it, if you are so inclined, but that's not obligatory.
A Journey Towards the Great Unknown
At the furthest end of the known universe there lie the ruins of a once-great city. It lies hidden amidst the trees and the thickets, far beyond the road and the taverns.
You came upon this place only by accident.
Place your bag on the floor beside a tree (any tree – it doesn’t matter which) and take a step towards the crumbled walls. Breathe.
Now.
Here you are.
You were never meant to come this way, but now you’re here, you find that you are inextricably drawn towards the city.
You could turn back.
Go on.
Turn back now and walk away.
You can’t, can you?
Standing upon the brink of a brand new place, you think: one quick look. One step across the threshold can’t hurt.
Can it?
You stand upon the brink of this once great city.
One more step and you will cross the city walls into the unknown.
Are you afraid?
Place your hand upon a dying piece of stone.
Run your hands across it.
You understand it's pain.
(Tell it so.)
Remember the feel of this stone and the tree where you left your bag.
Think of the moment when the sun hits a puddle in the road after the rain.
Recall first taste of the summer ice cream in the park on a Sunday afternoon.
Cross the threshold.
(Where do we go in the end? When we shuffle off this mortal coil, what next?)
Tell me.
What do you find?
At the very end is a question. I'd love to actually see your answers to it, if you are so inclined, but that's not obligatory.
A Journey Towards the Great Unknown
At the furthest end of the known universe there lie the ruins of a once-great city. It lies hidden amidst the trees and the thickets, far beyond the road and the taverns.
You came upon this place only by accident.
Place your bag on the floor beside a tree (any tree – it doesn’t matter which) and take a step towards the crumbled walls. Breathe.
Now.
Here you are.
You were never meant to come this way, but now you’re here, you find that you are inextricably drawn towards the city.
You could turn back.
Go on.
Turn back now and walk away.
You can’t, can you?
Standing upon the brink of a brand new place, you think: one quick look. One step across the threshold can’t hurt.
Can it?
You stand upon the brink of this once great city.
One more step and you will cross the city walls into the unknown.
Are you afraid?
Place your hand upon a dying piece of stone.
Run your hands across it.
You understand it's pain.
(Tell it so.)
Remember the feel of this stone and the tree where you left your bag.
Think of the moment when the sun hits a puddle in the road after the rain.
Recall first taste of the summer ice cream in the park on a Sunday afternoon.
Cross the threshold.
(Where do we go in the end? When we shuffle off this mortal coil, what next?)
Tell me.
What do you find?