What if Atlas shrugged...

and the world broke in two? What if the crack that destroyed the world didn't originate in the world but sprang from a crack within Atlas himself? The same crack that caused him to shrug in the first place, what if that same crack destroyed his world. How would he live with himself after the pieces were gathered together and shoved back together? How could he even think of going on? Of trying again to shoulder the world? Would the weight of tragedy, the devastation utterly reduce him beyond restitution and leave him as naught? Less than the dust of the earth upon which he trod. Can there be any hope for help? Is there a way to repair or fill the fault within before it destroys the world? Is there anyone who can help?

Musings from the hall...

Sitting here at the school house in between classes. I am surrounded by other people; students, faculty and just people passing by. Yet with all of these people around me, I feel completely isolated and desperately want to connect with someone. At a table in front of my there are six men, each avidly absorbed in their own personal activities. To my left another student is cruising through wikipedia and typing away with the bits of wisdom he finds.

Through it all, there is nothing to establish a connection with any of these individuals. It is very nearly like being the lonely traveler at an airport far from home. You know that your time there will not be indefinite. You know that there is no reason for any of the others around you to try and impart a few moments of their time. You have questions sometimes if you even speak the language. But still, the burning desire to connect with another human being continues. Why is it that even when we are surrounded by so many others, we can feel so alone?

Alternate Realities

Feeling anguish for pains not inflicted. Sorrow for actions that never were. Fear for roads not yet taken. Trepidation of futures unforeseen. Trying to focus on smiles of now. Hold tight to the laughter of today. Collect the sparkle in the eye of my daughter, the mirth of my son's grin. Savour the minutes surrounded in love and build a shield with warm memories to block out the cold void and it's fathomless pains. Restoring my reserve of happiness through the joys of simply playing with my innocent angels. Looking for the peace of heart, that far greener haven that I somehow wandered away from to find myself wandering in a vast gloomy wilderness. Catching glimpses of that place, shining through the cracks between leaves and peeking out through the veiling brambles.

Maelstrom

The start is benign enough, some small movement on the surface. The movement coalesces into a depression which quickly opens up into the full vortex. It is possible to ride out a maelstrom by altering course to go around to whirlpool. It is even possible to skirt the edge of the terror and ride the outer edges of the swirl,  but this is a fools path, taken by gamblers or those who already find themselves trapped inside the gripping terror and are attempting to escape. The most likely result of this risk taking is utter doom and failure as your path curves round in on itself until you sink into the abysmal darkness of the bitter end.

Now, the question is, how many times can you encounter a maelstrom and still survive?