I have come to the realization that I am lost and will forever be.
I ran out of string years ago. I still remember the feel of the rough twine slipping through my calloused fingers. I could have turned back, followed the gleaming cord back into the familiar light. I chose to continue on, to crawl deeper into the dark caverns. Now I am captured by the endless maze of my inner underground.
This is not a silent place. I hear the whisper of past conversations and forgotten songs, captured to repeat in the endless rewind of memory. Yet these voices too begin to recede into the depths and the heavy quiet of that other Voice.
I am afraid, but that is to be expected. There are creatures here, forged of memory and pain and regrets. They hover in the shadows just out of reach until my outstretched hands blindly touch them. Then they draw near.
They join the others who follow me, a different sort of retrieving line, as together, hand in hand, we make our way down into the fearful, revealing dark.