The Wall

I crane my head back as far as I can. The wall stretches high, nearly into the clouds.

I scan to each side of me and see more wall, a bastion of unbelievable strength, spanning for miles toward each horizon.

It says no words, this wall, yet expresses a cacophony. It stands, in the way, while I remain unaware of what I pursue on the other side.

I touch the wall. There is a certain texture to it, of corrugated cardboard. I touch in a different place, and rough brick meets my fingers. Still another, and somehow, it feels smooth as silk.

I am reminded of my many facets.

Do I pierce the wall? Do I dare to walk around it? Do I don wings and fly over its top edge, so close to the sun that the wax melts?

What is truly possible in this illusory realm? What is impossible?

Anger rises within. How dare this polymorphic atrocity present itself as such an obstacle!

I punch the wall. Solid stone breaks my fingers. I collapse, writhing in pain.

Lying on my back, I nurse my hand. Energy courses through it, so long as I give it love. From where that energy comes, I can only guess.

I am to try again.

But how? My hand is useless. I need a healer.

Are there tools nearby that would do the breaking for me? Is there a secret door, with a keyhole to which only the divine powers hold the key?

My bones ache for answers.

I call out, with a voice that has no echo. There is no one here but me.

Break down.

I hear a voice within…

Break down, it commands.

I cannot help but follow its orders. I rise, though to my knees, and cry. I shout, my wails coursing through the mist.

Breathing slowly, I notice that a teardrop has fallen gently upon my hand. The wet heals me, a seed of rejuvenation, and crawls, expanding through my limbs to mend my very soul.

I cry just a little more, soon to keep the phoenix’s power deep within my heart, like a sacred chalice.

Break down, the voice commands again.

I do not comprehend. Where am I to go? Is this space not good enough? Why could I not just stay, and accept my fate?

The wall taunts me, by standing.

My pieces, my quadrillions of pieces, they made this wall.

A human journey stands before me. There is more than one answer.

I stand, to match the wall's resolve.

Which piece shall I examine? How shall I reach it? Will it mystically fly out of the wall, giving a glimpse into the void beyond? Will it all crumble into a pile, burying me under its crushing weight?

Oxygen. Water. Experiences. Jobs. Food, drink, personal choice, people. Joy, truth. Love and pain.

There is only one way to find answers, to simplify, to understand how we fit together, how we exist together, interlinked in dreams by unexplained cosmic force.

Break down.

I am told, break down.

This time, my hand grips the wall, and my mind pulls, extracting smaller pieces caught in webs, like Spider-Man.