It was always in front. The end. Always known yet conveniently ignored and forgotten, always hidden by will and desire, hoping it always remains the same, trying to work everything out as perfectly as never done. Clinging to every bit. Moving as slow as possible like drinking a favourite drink, nice and slow to get everything it has to offer, but now as we go further it is inevitable to see. We still move and walk right into it, thinking of getting past, but who has ever been past the end ? It's not just hitting it that's disaster, it's the whole journey till this point that's the real disaster. Then all is left inexpressible. Ignorance might be bliss for a while but that doesn't change it from being part of disaster.
And today I realize, that's the only path I can see.
