This is the beginning of everything, and this is where all things end - nothingness.

I cannot remain a restless soul forever.
I cannot endure the suffering inflicted upon me by my lingering doubts any longer.
I cannot.
I cannot.
Time has to stop for me.
Yes. It has to stop for me.
Its flow has brought me too much sorrow,
too much pain,
too much shame.
And what is my crime that I should deserve all this other than the fact of my birth?
And what a crime this proved to be! Oh, what a crime. Oh, what a crime.
   But no. No. The flow of time has to be stopped.
                         Its steady course has to be diverted away from me, somehow.
                            A dam has to be built,
                                        and my feeling of guilt for that unfathomable crime
                                                 has to come to an end.
                                                                           It has to.
                              It must.
What sort of justice is there in my continuing existence?
What sort of wisdom can be discerned from it?
What sort of benign will can allow it to be?
What sort of purpose can justify it?
What sort of reward?

For as for me, there will always be enough justice in silence and unconsciousness.

February 1997