The Beast

The beast. There it lies, across the endless stretch. At first, it seems so clear, resting upon its great rock, the waves breaking at its base but never reaching its massive form. I feel its scrutiny, and I don’t know why. Suddenly, the rock seems to drift, or perhaps I am drifting. But the creature moves away, becomes fuzzy against the horizon. I wonder if perhaps the shape I saw was never the shape it was. Yet its there still, and somehow I feel it always will be, resting, waiting for its mystery to be solved. I feel its judgment, as if it knows me better than I know myself, but I don’t know why I feel it. Perhaps if I could see its head, look it in the eye, all would become clear. Fearfully, I strike out for the rock. I move steadily forward for some time, until the waves reach me. I move with their ebb and flow, and the creature remains distant. It feels as if the landscape is rocking back and forth like a pendulum, but I remain static. I plow onward, harder even. I begin to wonder how far I have traveled, and how far I have yet to go. The beast remains shapeless. I realize it may not have a head, or a shape of any kind. I know nothing of it, or what lies between us. But it wants to be reached. Or is it just me that wants to reach it? I grow frantic, and I wish that it would call out, bellow or screech, acknowledge in some way its reality. Perhaps it could slide from its rocky perch, churn through the black water to me, and lift me onto its back. If it could carry me the rest of the journey I could rest there comfortably. I wonder if it has a back. Doubt runs through my veins like blood, questions envelop my heart and mind. My throat becomes dry, yet I swim onward. I feel like I have no other choice. I must reach it. My muscles loosen, and I start to find a pattern among the waves, allowing them to lift me up and then spur me quickly forward, towards my dim goal. My limbs start to numb, which I welcome. Time passes. Uncertainty remains, yet suddenly it has become familiar. Within my mind, the questions begin to rise and fall like the waves I am riding, and a consistent dullness enters me. Every spark that still lives in me tries to break it, to ignite and light a path to the finish. Suddenly I realize I have been moving in circles. The beast and the rock are centered. I have been avoiding them this entire time, choosing instead to explore the territory so that I may know everything there is to know. I have been drawing maps in my head of how to reach the center, creating an atlas of different roads, all without an end. I want to catalog them all, but how can I? There can be only one destination, and whichever road I take, I cannot help but miss parts of the others. My head begins to flood with potential routes, overflowing. Quickly I spark, ignite, using the maps as fuel. I burn them, until the sparks become embers. I feed them questions, culling the herd. The embers merge, collecting themselves until they can rise as ash and let the cool air reshape them into more questions. An endless cycle I have created. The endless questions remain, yet suddenly I am calm and move forever onward with the realization that if I reach the beast on the rock, it would be the end.