The Place At The End Of The Earth
One night as I was lying in bed, I saw the place at the end of the earth. It was a hill, blanketed in virgin snow, at twilight. At the edge of my vision, the branches of a pine tree hung calmly, lending their aroma to the cool, comfortable air. On top of the hill was a log cabin with a chimney from which wisps of smoke drifted out into the purple-grey sky.
Beyond the hill was a slope that tapered off into the vast chasm of eternity. Yet I was not afraid, because I knew that no one could ever fall into it against their will.
Inside the log cabin was a crackling fire and a cozy hearth, covered in a soft, round, red carpet. And on that carpet, there I was, a child of four years old. I had no expression on my face for I was in complete security, without fears, wrapped in the assurance that I was cared for and could never be hurt.
A force, not unlike the love of my parents, but stronger, coming from an ultimate life source, permeated my presence, granting me perfect serenity.
I felt all the blurry beauty of nostalgia, but it was real.
*clap*clap* Beautiful. That´s what I´d call God.