Finding an End

I wish the end was as clear as a novel where turning a page proves the finality of a period. Unfortunately, life doesn't grant such simplicity. A candle's flame, dancing in fickle illumination and warmth, can disappear at any moment and suddenly never work again. Even popular television shows aren't guaranteed a solidified ending.

What about things that really matter then?

Life itself is too deep to really try to find an ending. Who truly knows when life ends? Sure, the beating of a heart and intake of breath are classic symbols of sustained living. Neurons firing in the brain, still causing the eyes to take in the very last images of the world, is possibly a better scientific marker of life. Even so, no-one can logically determine what happens to our experience after our bodies die (if there even is an experience of 'living' after death...). This isn't what concerns me, though. This topic is far to philosophical for me to tackle.

The end I'm finding is a chapter of my life. I feel it coming. I understand the significance. I notice the symbols swirling around in mystical illusions so near yet buried from my perception. This chapter has no pages. There are no words describing the moving of time and shifting of my world. Only the arbitrary emotions, whimsical and fleeting, carry the weight of this end.

What's ending?

Honestly I don't know. Then what is changing?

Life. I'm understanding my desires on a deeper level day by day. I'm discovering motivation, ambition, and pride. I feel and comprehend a jealousy for freedom I didn't know I had. I know how to be happy, even when I'm not. (The difference for this was a matter of acting and suppressing. Now I truly am happy when I want to be.) I'm harboring a better sense of kinship with my loved ones and finally seeing who truly is friend. But I also feel shifts in relationships because of this. I'm wondering if these tumultuous emotions are playing too deeply when their existence should persist only topically.

I have fear for this type of change. I'm afraid of this ending, of this beginning. The steps that come are heavy... and good... Which pace will I take to get to the next chapter? And with whom do I discuss? My head? Heart? Soul? Or someone entirely different, unbiased, and detached?

I talk to words, and search inside their meaning. I see their intricate worship and fend off my decay. Perhaps I will see something soon in the lyrics of my life. Look forward to it, and help me research.