A fine layer of ash now sits on everything like snow. Lumps of gray against the black in the remaining light jut out against the otherwise empty landscape. The light has gotten dimmer since the beginning. I can't quite tell where the light comes from. Somehow there is always enough to see a dozen feet or so ahead....and then black. From time to time the gray lumps turn out to still be alive. Not quite asleep yet. Sometimes the cold has taken them and they lie there: empty. They often look as if they tried to pull the ash over themselves, like a blanket, to find some measure of warmth. When I find them like this, they are usually with others. Others who forgot or never remembered in the first place where they needed to go. All of them huddled up in this place. Going nowhere together. From time to time I see one or two who have not given in to the cold. Walking or limping about as best they can.....most say they are headed upwards...towards the sunlight. I have not decided to help anyone remember yet.....I feel like I have made it this far not because I remember....that's easy. I know. I understand. I dont always know what it is I understand....but I know this nonetheless: The sun is not the answer. It is the sea.

I once stood on the edge of a daydream...waiting for my wings. Now I stand at the edge of the darkness: choosing to be free.

I wont be in this shifting darkness much longer. I can almost smell the salt on the air. Feel the water in my lungs. I'm coming.