60. 70. 75 percent, at least. 75% of the pieces of my puzzle had come together. The tunnel was there, or at least it was forming. The light, at the end of it, yes! – there was a flicker a couple of weeks ago.
But now – but now? This last battle is over. It has been lost. I lay completely cut open, breathing a few last breathes. I feel the feverishly sharp sword slice through the remains of my torso.
Honestly, it may have been 80%! I was getting so close. Another couple of minutes, or decades . . .
Now, oblivious to invisible pulls. Now, oblivious to invisible pushes. Laid bare. Laid barren. Fragments – without hope.
Alas. Death opens new areas. Places where nudges aren’t needed. Places that are so special they are to remain untouched.
Islands, somewhere in Wonderland. Floating, effortlessly. Islands; pure, seemingly insignificant. Islands – invisible and unheard.
Islands . . . oblivious to sequestration.