Endless

By Yaman Cengiz

There is a man from a reality similiar to ours, wandering his place in the universe and all its purpose like we do. He lives in a world similiar to us, with green grass and blue sky, sun shining and moon reflecting. This is the story of a man, much like you and me, going trough a symbolic life that was never there and always there at the same time. It is the life itself trough the eyes of a man who loses it all and wins it all, who smiles and cries, who rises and falls, until there is no ground to fall to, until there is no sky to gaze into. Dirahiel Avalon is my own creation, my own self, wandering in a journey of both mine and a power beyond mines co-creation. It is everyhting there is, was, and will be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yaman Cengiz
• Release date: Apr 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201375270

Book preview

When I inevitably stand at the edge of the abyss, I shall be reborn. When I am on the verge of vested greatness, I shall remember where I have come from.

Chapter 1:

Fever Ray

HOW LONG SINCE I WOKE up from the nothingness, only to find out that the world is heading straight to that direction? How long since I lost the last bit of hope of finding a meaning in all of this? It does not matter; it is too late to realize the imperfection of this cruel joke, as it has already corrupted reality itself. I have been walking aimlessly, trapped in the ambiguity of my own questions about all this, failing to bring them to a specific point so that I know my steps have a purpose. My exposed heart, beating on and on, showing me the blood circulating through my body, but I could not help but think that it was failing to do its duty of cleansing the fuel, as my whole being was in a perpetual state of numbness...

The mountains were higher than ever before, the trenches were deeper, nature was wilder and more vibrant, the clouds were more erratic, and the air was more furious, the sun shined brighter... In my slumber, a force altered reality, an unavoidable force of change erased the illusions and delusions, it rewrote the rules, it painted the world anew with its brush... I knew this like I knew how to walk, how to breathe. I call this force:

The truth.

The truth is the only constant, it is the immutable power of change and movement; destruction and creation, it is simultaneously the two sides of the coin, it is the paradox. Words are no more than a futile attempt to describe its inner working. But why does my awareness expand itself to that knowledge, a knowledge that shouldn’t be contemplated upon or to be discovered? Why does my consciousness break itself down in an attempt to understand the incomprehensible? The truth allows me to be and create everything inside my mind, it overwhelms me with its possibilities.

But the truth also laughs at my insignificance, watches my desperate attempts of trying to order the chaos and give it all meaning while I suffer immensely, puts me in the middle of a battlefield where I fight back against something that I cannot reach with my fists and amuses itself on how I innocently believe that I have a free will in all of this. But the story is already written, the book is being read aloud by the author. And to wish to meet the truth itself is a foolish endeavor; it requires you to open the gates of abyss and stare at it without blinking. You need to walk on the pathless path to reach there, but to even assume that one can face the obstacles of unknown without losing the bonds one has with its inner guidance, to believe vigorously to another powerful force outside himself which alone will carry one closer to truth without allowing any harm to befall upon his soul, is a statement that exists between the thin line of bravery and stupidity.

No one knows what or who lies beyond there as no one succeeded. The limitless imagination of mind becomes limited when it tries to fathom the feelings, hear the sounds, and see visions that exist in the beyond... There are now only the remnants of failed attempts of this dead end of a purpose, and they roam the world to remind me of the impossibility of the task. Their deformed, transparent vessels show what is under their skin: their organs mashed together like a blub is nauseating to look at, their bones and muscles mutated in such ways to allow them to move in a nightmarish way, the wicked darkness leaking trough their body is the very destroyer of what they once stood for... Their names and their unique selves have been completely swept away by it... They are lost, everlastingly stuck in a state of limbo and abiding torture, a realm between being and not being. The path has crumbled away under their feet, they fell and fell, never reaching the bottom of the pit. To remain sane in such a state is unthinkable. I am heading in that direction, slowly but surely, and time, -the cursed concept-, is putting its heavy weight on me, working its systems to bring me closer to that state.

But under this dark blanket of thought and feelings, lies something rebellious in