The Rubicon

In the mist of the journey’s penultimate mile, at the edge of the fading fulcrum of future obscure, at the door-step of dusk the sunset swansong resonates for the forlorn essence silhouetted in confounding stillness. The twirling threads of turmoil entwined seamless with the cleaved cloud of the swarming storm of strife, ravage the unwary horizon halcyon once, challenging the chameleon of self-transformation. The shards of the splintered sky in galvanized gale, sway on the dismal crest of the curled cloud of dismay, the remnant rays of sanguinity sense still swathe the highway of hope in the chaotic journey. As the twilight time is tinged by the spent sun, sinking within the strata of the discontent dust, with the cornucopia of the longing life unlived, the Rubicon is reached walking the last mile. The defining moments at the unsupervised stop sign, design the innate paradigm of emotional epitome. Awareness assures that the die is not yet cast, crossing the conscience line would defy self-actualization. The inner torment driving to self-destruction, or the enticement of the forbidden fruit, the sinful exploits activated by the transgression of the decree of the unseen law maker, the absolute. Stopping at the sign stimulates the spiritual sensitivity, ameliorates the pain of existential predicament profound, saves the psyche from the clasp of soul’s dark night, unfurling within uncertainty mayhem the divine leitmotif.