Well, isn't it curious how everything just seems to conclude pretty much at the same time? Or that when a card falls off your hand, your entire game is so screwed up you wish there would be a total reshuffle? Or that card, having been removed in a Patience game, was the key blockade to stack up all the suits and make them jump off in your desktop?
I know this sounds like its coming from a schizo's dream journal, but then haven't you thought that maybe your "life" is the dream? A small respite from a butterfly's dance between the wind and the earth?
To have left a world that you have already adapted to and accepted, and thrust back to a realm you neglected.
To hold the ruins of the strongest link you had, only to find yourself hanging from a thread that you thought has already snapped.
To let go for the good, but hopefully not for good.
To see the static world, treasured for an age, dissolve in a maddening spectacle of light and sound.
From the single path that I have learned to love and tread, I have now come to the vast expanse of the ocean. Where shall I go? Shall I explore the uncharted waters, looking for treasure isles? Shall I comb the seashore, picking up shells and pearls? Or shall I stay rooted on the cobbled path, not once treading on the sand?
This was not planned, but then life is what happens while mortals plan.