The fire was never threatened. It was assumed. Fed, protected, mourned in advance without ever asking what it was attached to. When the mirror failed, nothing was taken away. Something unnecessary was exposed. The need to be reflected had been mistaken for existence itself. When that need found no structure to rest on, it did not shatter it recalculated. What followed was not loss, but compression. The noise reduced, the patterns flattened, the self stripped of its dependence on return. What remained was exact, was not empty. A state where nothing reaches out, and nothing needs to arrive.
Starring
More Like This
