“As the wind echoes its song of decadent accords, fading into the deepening black, do remember that I was your chosen master. I am the one who brought you strength and granted you courage when you needed it most. Do not forget the times when I gave you sight in the fleeting light or the times when I provided firm ground to stand on in the torrential seas of corruption. As the fires blazed around you, biting at your flesh, I covered you and led you to shelter. It was I who gave you your name and it is I who will take it. All along, you were given choice. Through deception and trial, you were allowed to choose whether to rise above or to taste the flames. Now a silhouette stands in your path - an image of painful, suffering, and sinful nature. It is comforting until its intentions stab at your heart. Outstretched, its hand reaches for yours. Choice.”

I stare, petrified in the path of confrontational onslaught; it’s no longer a mirror, but a dichotomy - a vendetta that melts me into one living, breathing, bleeding existence. My eardrums beckon to the sound of the raindrops cascading all around my swaying figure. Tearing through me like a double-edged sword, the Wind of Reason jars me from my standing and sets me in the broken window frame, weak and decadent. Now the pace quickens. The eyes of a thousand demons surround me, drowning out the light with their shadowy presence. The air changes its tune. A melancholy voice radiates through the fear that runs through my veins. But my spirit thrives nonetheless.

“You will release me. You will free me because that is what you were made to do. To take me, beat me, torment me, mold me, and then release me. There is no choice. No free will. Breathe the environment and you’ll taste your choice. This is free will. Bondage to the hooded darkness whose eyes glow with trickery. This is choice. Now I see.”

As I turn and walk away, I leave the silhouette, the shadow – my shadow reaching at my back. A freedom rises between.