At the end, amidst a mire forbidding and bleak, the culmination of trails long forgotten that stretched
forth into the endless Pale, there stood a great gate. All that was and was to be, led there and yet,
none knew what lay past it, for but unto none it would open. Nor was there anyone that could remember it
having been built or crafted, or by whom, or for which purpose, or when.
Those that desired to draw near it, were destined to be driven far into the distance, until they would
forget how they had come to seek it out to begin with. And thus, whenever it was spoken of in ominous
speech, it soon faded away into obscurity, to forever disappear without a trace. Those that argued that
it had always existed were soon met by those that argued that there was no such thing and hence, nothing
to speak of, and this most often on part of those that argued that neither positions indeed were of any
validity, and hence had even less of merit to say.
None but the gate knew that but all existed as firmly and by virtue of those oblivious to its solitary
purpose. And yet, even it itself knew not what lay past its own demise, for were it to be cast open and
reveal what it concealed, beginning would come to end, and ending become unknown, and all drawn anew.
And thus, it was called The Gate Nowhere, for it led none nowhere and but unto none it would open.
He wandered amidst the darkness of a mire forbidding and bleak, encircled by the endless Pale, the Nothing. He wandered without moving and he saw without sight, he heard but did not listen, as moment met moment that sought to attain what time of itself was not to obtain. He wandered amidst the darkness that knew neither dusk nor dawn and occasion did not rise to occur. In the shrouding distance, the horizon announced a terrifying storm that seemed to draw as near as it would then recede. There was no light but fading. He had no notion of how he had come to be walking or if he had previously been but walking or how long he had been walking for. The air was thick and stagnant and lay heavily upon him, as though the very destiny of all that preceded him had been, long ago, determined to wither and wane, eternally bound, and never to change. With every step that he took, the emptiness grew and the darkness grew nigh, and the all-consuming pale did advance.
He recited words of fortitude that were sooner than said swallowed by the Pale and faded into indiscernible infinity. He cast curses and condemnation upon his destiny until the fraying vestiges of hope and faith turned upon him and in in their trails now lay seeds of the Pale. All was driven towards its inalterable conclusion, in the night of his days. When there was nothing left to say for no words not bereft of meaning remained, he ceased to speak and he ceased to move, for all was all the same. He suddenly realised that he had been moving in circles recurring, ending up where had begun, beginning where he had ended, incessantly rewriting a narrative that had long ago been spelt out in entirety, merely changing a word here or there, oblivious to the conditions of possibility that had engendered it. The air was clear now, the terrifying storm that had previously lain by the horizon had faded, and the all-encompassing Pale was all that remained and he became at once at one with the pale. And yet, for a momentous instant of a moment, words were cast in clarity upon the great Gate Nowhere that had unfolded and at the boundaries of which he had been stood without noticing, but his eyes did not see nor did his mind seize meaning from what appeared afore him:
Who seeks does not gain
Who surrenders attains
Abandon yourself
To emptiness turn
He later departed, never to return.
