One night of rest

blank thoughts and music and then

It hits, a wave of images and memories and sound, a wash of emotion like a tsunami mimicking a cinema screen, a moment of white respite and orientation where worry dissolves and then everything happens at once. It is a cacophany of destiny and purpose, in which every inkling of thought is an entire world bursting from single atoms, particles of unreleased and unrealized creation ricocheting into the enveloping dark.

A melody. A structure, an order, a coherent narrative of motive and time. A voice calls out from the darkness and sings to me you are stalling, you proceed not, all this is but accessory to your destiny and your great work lies forgotten in the dust, but in this single moment of stasis I can grasp the simple melody and control it, massaging it to fit my whim until the dissatisfied voice of destiny is lost in the crashing onslaught of images, and I thrust my shaking hands into the whirlpool and force it into order.

Here, the friends I desperately miss. Here, the past I no longer wish to flee. Here, the future that lies before me like the pristine pages of a virginal notebook.

And here, the destiny that propels me onward and which I must fulfil.

But for a moment, the suffocating power of existence breaks and there is no past and future but only

home.

I am asleep, and my destiny haunts me not, and I am home. I feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, and I am not sure if I am overcome by sadness or fear or elation but

I am home.