and thus it came to pass
one day
that each and every story,
no matter how tall
and how implausible
no matter how real and convincing,
stopped working

the stories no longer
eased the pain
of existence
the stories no longer
offered some healing balm
they simply
dropped to the floor
in front of him
useless
and ineffective

and there he stood
naked and empty
face to face
with god

there was nothing to say
nowhere to go
the abyss below
and eternity above

a great silence
consumed him
that felt like death,
and terror haunted him

yet he stayed
exactly where he was
unmoving and still
the dark night
wanting everything
every single thing
he thought he was
all his stories
all his pain, excuses, reasons
all his love and light,
a black hole
consuming the whole
of his universe

and he willingly
allowed himself
to be pulled
into the darkness

there…