Waiting, standing, in an endless hallway of doors.
The physical is changing shape, flowing like hot wax, stinging the logical mind. The brain twists into a fibrous knot of confusion.
An endless cycle, forever moving, never ceasing, always yearning, for a sense of permenance. A solid ground to freely move upon, to be able to trust.
A blind step of faith is a movement heavily thought upon before acting on. The eyes are never trustworthy. With no promises or guarantees, a step into this world seems like a fifty foot drop. A sense of dread covers the soul warning of impending doom.
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