The greatest destruction is not when everything disappears, but when there is nothing left to distinguish one thing from another. Form to matter, matter to light, light to the absence of the night. The mountain falls, the sea runs dry, the stars forget the reason why. Shape and shadow melt to one, the moon dissolves into the sun. No wall, no wound, no face, no name— only the fire without a flame. What I was, what I am, what I will be— are only ripples in the same dark sea. And the sea does not speak, does not care— it only moves, everywhere. All the names I used to hold are loosening their grip, growing cold. The self I shaped with blood and bone is fading, not into darkness—but into tone. Dissolution! Not the end of things, but the end of their division! Nothing is destroyed! But nothing remains as it was! The name, the face, the past, the place— all melting into the common cause! Dissolution! Not the fall, but the fusion! There was only change! I reached for something I could keep, but the stone had turned to air, the air to sleep. The memory of love, the memory of pain— both dissolving like snow in the rain. The observer I thought I was has no eyes now, and no cause. The world I walked, the road I trod— all one with me, and I with God? No. With change. Not god, not self, not soul, not stone— just the motion, and the motion alone. And the motion has no start, no end— it only turns, and turns, and bends. All the names I used to hold are loosening their grip, growing cold. The self I shaped with blood and bone is fading, not into darkness—but into tone. Dissolution! Not the end of things, but the end of their division! Nothing is destroyed! But nothing remains as it was! The name, the face, the past, the place— all melting into the common cause! Dissolution! Not the fall, but the fusion! There was only change! The body... is the earth. The earth... is the air. The air... is the fire. The fire... is the silence. And the silence... is not silent. It is everything, without a name. I am not the voice that speaks. I am not the ear that hears. I am the space between the words— the silence after years. If nothing is destroyed, and nothing remains, then what was I? Only a change. The choir rises for the last refrain, but the words are gone, and so is the pain. The organ swells, the bells still ring, but they are not separate from anything. Dissolution! Not the end of things, but the end of their division! Nothing is destroyed! But nothing remains as it was! The name, the face, the past, the place— all melting into the common cause! Dissolution! Not the fall, but the fusion! There was only change! There was only change! Only change!
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