The waters flowed. From the orifice, it was meant to, into the bigger crevice through which it bled on through, to the other side.
He let it flow. Over his fingers and palms and onto the things he held. He let it flow over his thoughts before they found their way. To the other side.
His thoughts flowed. Crystal, like the waters. It had been so, for a long time now. His questions always found their better halves when he stood there letting the waters flow. But like the villainous fiend, in those moving pictures, the skeletal claws of doubt loomed high above the long-lost lovers’ embrace.
Why was this world so? Why was his world so, he rephrased. Is this the way it would be till the end of time? Till the end of his time, he rephrased.
Why was he still looking for something? What is he looking for? Didn’t he have everything that was true? No. Not everything, he thought. Then what, he asked himself.
Passion? In a world devoid of everything but entities enclosed in their own pitiful selves, how would he find it?
Meaning? Of what? Life? No. That’s not what he was looking for. The meaning of life would be whatever his life spoke of fondly, after he’d breathed his last.
Importance, then? Or power? No. He’d understood what the word meant. His poetic heart had already written of it and now as the waters flowed, the words came back to him.
I watched a crawlie creep her way,
Through overlying roots under my swing.
She looked up and wondered, why shadows passed,
Each time I swung back, over her world.
To is to dark and fro is for light,
She seemed to reckon and silent, crept.
I wondered if she knew, the harm I could deal,
If I should stroke her immaculate realm.
And then, thought I, of the frailty of mine.
He had named it Magnitude at the time. It was an answer, from the voice within. To a question he’d asked, not too long ago, when he’d let the waters flow over himself. Where was that voice now? The one that answered every time he whispered. Did it forsake him or just silently fade to nothingness, like every one of those who are alive?
He didn’t get an answer. But he did hear a voice. And this time, it asked him a question instead.
Alan, are you done washing the dishes?