And so I rest in the space of a dream once more, where surrounded by happiness. The feeling itself is hollow, like it had no meaning. To relish for a moment the faces I would never see again, things to never do again. Like the world paused, for who knows how long, ended so I could have a time with everyone in a last bid for joy that was not achieved and the attachments of the before. The perfect visage of what the Religious ones call ‘heaven’…

Then it all faded, birthing the black and silence.

How long has it been since I came into this darkness?

The feeling is like floating, even in its confines.

The very concept of day and night, nonexistent, just the darkness and the occasional muffles and bumps. How many times has this sort happened?

Just another in endless the cycle…

I’d forgotten how long a lifetime it all begun, when everything came flooding back. The pain, experiences, life, memories, death, all of it. It makes me wonder; which was/is my true self? The conflicting personalities when it all came back. That said the effects weren’t so exaggerated that I’d fall into into insanity before the time. Yet just like before I felt something, rather everything, starting to leave me.

The life of a slave, one of a priest, a knight, merchant, assassin, farmer, harlot, thief, a broken toy, law enforcer, politician, gangster and the various gender, race and skin colour changes that came with its territories. So many lives I’ve lived flashing so much that if not for bar (theoretical, blockade) placed on me helping suppress and process the pain that came along with the information, I might as well ready myself to go back into the rest from my head exploding in this dark prison.

Our body that comes isn’t always guaranteed as the soul is always placed in one, molded to fit the physical construct for a perfect synchronization. So as of now I am unsure what body and gender I will be granted. The wait continues until I am torn from this unadulterated silence and peace and thrusted into yet another life of pain and suffering.

As things are right now I can’t help but wonder; which era will I be thrusted into? What world would exist behind this darkness? How is the life of the people, and what will mine be?

None of it matters, honestly. However it plays out, the outcome will always be one and the same; suffering and the repeat. So why even worry when in the long run you are among the masses that will be forgotten, an insignificant speck in this system.

Even from here I have a clue of what the world out there to come will be like. A peaceful world? Such is a childish notion. There is no ideal, called ‘peace’. For me it come as a prelude for chaos.

Under the pretext of peace those at the top of the hierarchy sweep their ill deeds under the rug. Only the blinded and ignorant believe the lies preached to them. A peaceful world, is no more than a pipe dream.

The mechanics of life in whichever lifetime is a follows; oppression of the weak, poor and ignorant by the powerful, strong and knowledgeable. A foundation built on nothing but bloodshed. That is what really is ‘civilization’. A mindset of only conquest for more.

And yet however so an insignificant speck we are we have our parts to play; to lay the groundwork or to be said groundwork.

For too long I’ve lived as either the oppressed or the oppressor. Making that life become rather… dull, would be the better way to describe it, since I have no way to.

The longing for the world to just stop existing and that the constrains to this repetitive curse would be broken and I may be free is the only thing keeping me going—that is if you see floating and slamming into the rapid we call life, and going with the flow of the calms of its waters called living. Talk about a broken mind. Insanity is just one step away, that not even my soul will recover, no matter how many lifetimes passes.

… Looks like the time is upon me, once again.

The time is finally here to leave this void. I do not wish to be torn away from this tranquil solitude, I wish to stay here if could for all of eternity, without the noise of the world. A childish dream it is to think the world would bend for you.

That feeling again.

Yes, one that I’ve felt so many times that I’ve lost count. My dark confines started with a shake, as if falling apart then went on getting tighter, clinging tightly to me. And the force that is tugging on me, pulling me out feels suffocating with every second or third break.

After a few hellish, who-knows-how long of that tight gripping sensations, the darkness was replaced by slightly dark orange-ish brightness, no rather darkness.

A brief breeze in the stillness wraps around me if only for a moment as I float unnaturally, a feeling of something pressed to my back and the back of my head, the familiar stick-like numeration (five) attached to a flat surface, hands. The felt soft yet slightly rough.

“A boy. Congratulation, you have a son.” I heard a voice, feminine yet coarse. Good. My ears are working.

That ever changing line had become a cliche to my very ears.

I had finally been delivered into this new world!

.

.

Into a new life I go, living behind the previous, like I’ve done countless times. Even so, I wonder how Una’s doing? I never got to see the little one’s face.

Even so, the complex theories about our existence leads me to believe we might have met or would meet, not knowing who the other is.

The very thought of such endless situation makes my very core sullen.