The Loss in Every New Beginning

The night brought peace, a temporary ceasefire. I woke to find the snow rushing silently to lay its wall-to-wall carpet. My first thought was take off the ring and throw it as far away as possible. It might just be a gesture, but at least then it can never be found and would become thankfully forgotten. Like having a metal tattoo removed. It was all part of the preparation for what had been discovered as already on the way; a start. There was no escaping the fact that there was so much to leave but not enough to stay for.

Tomorrows would be better from now on. Lonely at first; but that held no fear: the gulf had already built a distance that nobody bothered to fill any more. The materials for repair had long stopped being made, purchased or looked for. Shelves were empty in an undeniable way; the hunger would have to be fed elsewhere. Somewhere as yet not identified. And no map could plot the course.

First though to shed this skin. The rawness brought to the surface would bring about a flinch, but by a gritting of teeth become bearable. Managing the pain, rather than ignoring it; too much had already been ignored in the journey to this point. It was part of the reason we'd arrived at this unmarked station.

The consuming act of trying to forget while needing to remember. What it was, what it is, what it must become. Picking away at the scab to bring fresh life to the surface. Wishing the unknown into the shape of imagined hope.

The cells had begun to split after reproduction, forever reminders would remain that they were once joined. But now the main parts were totally separate, moving in different directions, never to travel the same path again.