…and the river rages, at times calm as a picture perfect glass pond, but always moving, erosion, time, the invisible taskmaster, ever pulling, ever moving, ever forward, the river carves, the wind bares down, edges begin to dull regardless of their noble origin, time bends all wills all walls, the longer you survive the more experience you accumulate, to navigate within this flow, the change happens cosmically in a blink, but for you this is a slow tide rising, a lifetime, you do not notice, or maybe do, rough edges invariably fade, hair runs grey or runs completely, slowly you are rounded out, becoming grains of sand, for you will, but in the midst of all, erosion of the body and the mind, until… until you are just a soul outside of time…

I wait, I pause, close my eyes, I can’t feel it, I think I can picture it… my consciousness glowing pulsing inside the shell.