There is only a road. On this road there walk a man, a man with no name, who walks along a road with no name. He has no beginning, no past, no foundation that would allow his mind to pick away at itself. Here, in this place, we call it Entropy, the result of pure zero, where all things that were not continue to be not. This man has no end as he has no beginning, no point where the road truly begins nor a point where the road truly ends. It continues onward, repeating back into itself as time.

This place should be familiar to you, as it is to I, it is a place that we all know and yet we'd be dumbfounded if we tried to express what it is. For there is no word in any tongue that would even begin to describe what it is or what it means to us, it merely exists and it's where nothing lays. Yet to say that would be wrong, for it is so much more then what I can tell you. The only way to truly witness what it is would be to be present on it, to join the many who've walked on it, but I believe most confidently that'll you aren't close enough to seeing it.

The road is long, as it is nothing, but it is the truth to everything, for when you look behind you, you will see the world you left. That world, that place, you still live in, yet you are here as the man with no name is. That place you left may come in a variety of things, it's sight hinges off who you are and what you believe that world was but in reality you do not have the say over what it looks like, despite what I have said. It is your subconscious that makes that decision and if you are anything like this man, you will see what he sees now.

He sees a burning city, one that once was a beacon of lights, now burning to the ground. It burns like Rome did and it burns like Babylon did. In time, it would built again, only to be turned to cinder as Rome and Babylon were. It is the way things are, in this place that you only know exists because you exist too, it tells you a truth as you eyes gaze upon the idols of today being destroyed, making way for the the new ones, it is a second coming of some kind only if the first coming was a second coming in of itself.

The man knows that he can't walk backwards as there is no point in doing so, he would merely be walking into the madness of this world, where there is no end to the spin of the wheel. He can only lament over it, as he merely thinks of how it is the greatest triumph and yet the greatest tragedy as well. He thinks of how he lived there, his mind fills with equal parts disgust over what it is was and a sadness that it is now gone, never to return again.

He merely keeps walking.

Where? He does not know, the road before him is endless. He keeps walking until the endless finally gives way to something, until it finally devours it's own tail to give way to something new. It is a wall of glass, a mirror that stands to the heavens. It shows a world that lacks him, for it is world that he will not live to see. He sees sights of happiness and of bliss, but these are of the true variety not gained from anywhere else. He hears, reads and sees the triumphs of man, of people who live with only the cares of life. He sees them build brilliant cities of marble, fit with towers of gold and ivory that hang all the way to the skies above. It is not perfect but what is?

But as he blinks the world changes. Before him now lay that city in fire, it's marble rotting, it's gold stripped of any luster that it once had so long ago. Now he sees those same people but they aren't the anymore. Their faces twist into spirals that continue inward, forming sickening smiles that are forced onto their mouths. Their eyes are open so wide that it hurts to even look at them for a protracted amount of time, their pupils are filled with a mixture of fear, ecstasy and confusion. It is that moment at looking at those people does he begin to understand what is happening.

These people here, these people are of a mindsight where nothing can end, where the grand party must continue going even when it is slowly being burned to the ground. They are people who know better then that, but they are ignorant of it. Not because they are burdened by the chains of freedom, but rather because they are burdened with the chains of comfort. In a way, this darkness, this fire, came from a want of comfort, it came from a desire to live better, it came from us. It came from us always wanting better and can we truly say if it is wrong or not?

We cannot fight it, it is always there. The common man will only live in abstinence for as long as he lives, for who is to know the actions of his children? In time there will come a rebellion, there will come those who reject it, and whether or not they are right we can not say. It may lead to this era of man receiving a new spark of life after laying in stagnation for so long, or it may just lead to the further decay of it as those who follow the rebellion will have their actions replicated by ones who merely wish to live in the current system of comfort, rather then bring it to reform. For they merely wear the mask of a reformer, but there is nothing left to reform, there is only something to regress. Just as it finally dawned upon him, the mirror shattered into a million pieces, and left the road of everything bare before him, he walked forward, the only anchor to a world that now only exists as a faulty memory. A weight had been lifted, to let another take it's place.

He knew he wouldn't be remembered, he had no name, no face, nothing, after all, who is to be remembered between you and I? The man only meekly says his final words, "The clouds around us were dark, we stood on guard, jealously guarding what was ours. But it was all for not, for in due time, we would be left with no other choice. We became dark as it was in our nature."

He found his end but he'll never know the sweetness of life. It may be better this way.