THE MOMENT BEFORE ENLIGHTENMENT.

incessantly, on and on, without pause. waking, disintegrating, over and over, endlessly. he was weary, now. the cycle of karma had branded itself into his skin, blazing cold, frigid fire. he was like a spider caught in its own web, like a snake biting its own tail, helpless to be devoured by himself. everything left of him, eroded away, the ocean of time carving its way through his cliff side. he, only once, lived guided by his own pleasure and displeasure. after that, the wheel of fate, the rope of destiny, tightened around his neck, far more a cage or prison than the boy with blossom hair ever had been. vexation, humiliation, exhaustion, and finally nothing at all– a blank slate, cleansed of evil. …the buddha and king enma both must be laughing at him.