A prose monologue. The Road by Terry Miles.

The Road.

Everything stops now, all the tidying up of words, the making of a space is no longer the priority it once was, it is halted because what remains is a heap of words pre-selected words and the selection of words. One by one they were moved in a further process of selection until fewer and fewer words remained. The art of it was not the selection or pre-selection but the words in-between. There is a way of doing things, all things and as it is said there are ways of not doing things, it is simple. There is, it seems, a choice but the act remains and the decision is 'just when' to perform, after which who but those with high opinions can say, there was any choice at all; even if it came to the point of saving one's own skin and whatever purity of thought there was, whatever purity of thought went into the discourse, it was the return journey back to the beginning, no resolution beyond the question, no elevation - no coming together on a higher plain and no dipping into the depths of hogwash - for there are no heroes, and no anti-heroes and there are no last words on the subject, no definitive recommendations and no conclusions. The wanderer with all his possessions treads along the vacant road. He knows nothing to where it comes, relative to time and space. The sun may be shining; storm clouds may cover the sky with foreboding but that is no portent to what lies ahead. In the fullness of time, that is, in the subjective sense all will be revealed, all that is necessary to bring about decisions on a day-to-day, minute to minute level. There are no angels to guide the traveller, no sign posts in the clear blue sky, no familiar street signs that placed neighbours and family neatly by, they, the family can't be found, they have moved on' and to stand alone with your face to the wind for awhile is no bad thing. Soon a clarity of vision breaks in and the hard decisions can no longer be postponed since half a while ago they hung around like boats at anchor. In any case things haven't gotten worse and you may feel that going is coming, and after some time has passed, you would do it all again with all the uncertainties, if you didn't feel so settled.