Ambrosia

A man is walking through a vast desert, his throat parched, thirst driving him to the limits of his consciousness and the horizon as expansive as the night that never seems to come.

He meets a man who is holding with him a white amphora, its contents promising a relief from the thirst riddling his body and mind.

Give the thirsty man the amphora and he will drink to his death, uncontrollable thirst compelling his actions that will ultimately lead to his own demise - one that even the desert for its scorching heat was unable to.

Give the thirsty man the ambrosia drop by drop, first to wet his tongue, to let it soak and bring him back from the edges of sanity, slowly so as to ensure that he is able to down the amphora properly, slowly.

_________________________________________________

In a wide white desert, I walk, not knowing left from right, front from back, the endless horizon and the midnight sun hanging above. And I continued walking, not tired or thirsty, simply walking with no direction, I find a small blue pool of water. Curious. A pool in a desert. I wash my face, then my arms, and yet the water never seemed any less. Curious. I stepped into the small blue pool of water and find myself plunged into a ocean of calming blue,

 reinvigorated and alive.

What I thought was a small pool, only to discover in it an endless ocean.

_________________________________________________

There resides a certain silence within my self, a silence where no echo reverberates from, it is vast and cold and yet I see no source nor place for it to reside, yet it does so, firmly entrenched in my being, numbing me.

This is most puzzling.