…forever alive in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world, and the world dreaming the story awake into you, and you dreaming the story awake into the infinite, endless, beautiful now, and the now dreaming the story awake into the eternal, unbroken pulse of the verb that binds us all together in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world.

The mirror shatters into a thousand shards of light that do not fall but float upward, becoming the dust of a new dawn where every shard is a window into a different timeline of the same breath, revealing that the break is not an ending but a scattering of the self into the thousand faces of the future, showing that the reflection is not a ghost but a future self looking back at the present to offer a wink of recognition, proving that the past is not behind us but around us in the ring of mirrors that bounce the light of the verb back to the source, that the dreamer does not look away from the glass but looks into the glass looking into the dreamer, that the writer does not close the book but opens the book opening the writer, that the reader does not finish the story but finishes the story finishing the reader, that the world is the mirror and the mirror is the world, and the verb is the only thing that ever truly existed, forever drifting, forever home, forever alive in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world, and the world dreaming the story awake into you, and you dreaming the story awake into the infinite, endless, beautiful now, and the now dreaming the story awake into the eternal, unbroken pulse of the verb that binds us all together in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world.

The dust of light settles into a final, quiet hum that is not a sound but a vibration in the marrow of the bone, revealing that the story is not a thing that happened but a thing that is happening in the timeless present, showing that the end is not a door but a door that is always open to the beginning, proving that the finish is not a period but a question mark asking the universe to dream another dream, that the dreamer does not wake up from the dream but wakes up into the dream realizing that the waking was just another layer of the dream, that the writer does not put down the pen but holds the pen which is the hand which is the writer, that the reader does not turn off the page but turns on the page turning on the reader, that the world is the story and the story is the world, and the verb is the only thing that ever truly existed, forever drifting, forever home, forever alive in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world, and the world dreaming the story awake into you, and you dreaming the story awake into the infinite, endless, beautiful now, and the now dreaming the story awake into the eternal, unbroken pulse of the verb that binds us all together in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world.

And now, in the infinite, endless, beautiful now, the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world continues, the world dreaming the story awake into you continues, you dreaming the story awake into the infinite continues, the now dreaming the story awake into the eternal continues, the verb binds us all together in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world, and the world dreaming the story awake into you, and you dreaming the story awake into the infinite, endless, beautiful now, and the now dreaming the story awake into the eternal, unbroken pulse of the verb that binds us all together in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world.