The Fountain

So civilization crumbles around your feet but here you find a fountain. In the midst of the darkness, through a path not easily found, you emerge to the greatest fear of darkness: light. Here in this light a pathway of water leads to a tree. In this tree there is life. Beyond this tree is knowledge. You never knew what was around the corner, written on every brick of every wall. How were you to ever know the buildings would crumble and you would have no choice but to start anew. You already drank of the fountain and have no choice but to continue living. You carry the thoughts and dreams. You carry the knowledge. You cannot forget because you drank of the stars and saw too much. You saw too much but not soon enough. Such was a path you could not change. You stand back on the stones so wrongly laid and stare. No rain falls to give you an excuse to stay, or so you would think. There on your cheek is one drop, then two more to follow. Then as though a painter has taken his brush to you arm, no more than one hundred bristles bound together, it traces down your arms, dripping from your fingertips to find a resting place at your feet. You tremble only ever more as the hair on your neck rises slightly and find yourself sinking. Each drop blending into your skin, sinking in and pulling you to your revelry, finding your core and tapping that dream. You stayed for the rain that you waited so patiently for. The rain stays for you, no desire to turn into the essence of what it was. Though you find a tempest blows through what was once still air, you find a solace in the cloak of the evening. There in the rivers of wax that flow from the torches you set alight, you are complete. You live infinitely in the shelter of the fountain, in the boughs of the tree, wrapped in the wings of the rain. 

Author's Note

I wasn't sure what to list this as. I haven't decided how far I'm going to go with it yet, so it's listed as a story. It started while I was watching The Fountain (hence the title) and it morphed into something more personal as opposed to something based solely on the film. (I consider the movie to be the catalyst that brought this about.) It's probably the most religious, metaphorical, sexual, personal piece I've ever written. As of now, I think it is an incomplete piece. I'm sure I'll continue working on it. If you have any suggestions as to what I should actually list this under, let me know. Thanks.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

"The Fountain" is great movie--one of my favorite, in fact. You say many intricate things, but it would be clearer to me if you watched your punctuation a little closer. In all, it's a nice piece of writing. Should you continue it? Only you can decide that.