It’s a metaphor that has been used since time immemorial, but my life has always felt like a story of many nicely divided chapters. The cosmic storyteller, every so often, unbeknownst to me, decides to end a sentence, leave the rest of the page blank, turn to the next one, and write a heading for a new arc in my life.
Of course, I am aware this sentiment is abundantly mutual. We, all, have our own storybooks. I would imagine some of them span many volumes. Stories that run on for too long, disclosing too much of the thread of fate at once, never make for good storytelling.
The best authors, eventually, write a sentence which they step back from and feel, in their heart, that thereof is a fitting end for their story. Of course, there may always be things that follow. Almost every literary masterpiece ever written has a sequel of some kind, even if it’s not a direct one.
Certainly, the same is true of the author of fate, who is the author above all authors. The one who keeps breathing life into the cosmos through the stroke of its pen, surely, knows best when it’s time to put down what has been written and start anew.
Unlike the authors here on earth though, the words of the wisest writer never see the light of day. Once a book is finished, and the ineffable ink has dried, there is no single soul who shall set eyes upon it. When the composer of the cosmos decides to finish a book, it is shelved in the archive of time, never to be opened again.
What you are reading now is an attempt to speculate on, and summarize thereof, the contents of one of those eternal, inconceivable texts. As I have been moving into the next part of my life, I can feel the fabric of my existence reverberating as the weight of the ink from the final pages of my first story are being written.
Albeit my recollection will never attain to the level of detail breathed into the ethereal exposition composed by the composer of all compositions, even the gist of the story that lives within that text is one that few have heard. That gist is certainly a story within itself, and it’s a story I have kept to myself for a long time.
As the time nears where the full book of the first part of my life is concluded, I felt a pressing need to share what I believe to be a summary of its contents, before I myself join the cosmic creator and conclude the first volume in the collective story of my life.
Perhaps, my authoring of this story is the conclusion of the first volume of my cosmic journey.