Whenever I close my eyes I see it: an unmistakable, indelible image fixed in my crumbling memory. Even while awake and lucent it is undoubtedly there waiting for me like a lifeless shadow slumped in a dark corner as the firelight flickers and dances. And it shall forever remain until the day comes when I close my eyes for the last time and finally let go.
It is a place they call Elysium. I can only describe it as a land where the sun never sets nor rises, where it is eternally dusk and the sky is saturated with fantastic hues of red and gold. Rolling fields of billowy yellow grass strum the wind as leaves scatter like playful children whom yearn for winter to never arrive. They say on the outer edge of Elysium is an ancient, decrepid wall made of stone that spans endless miles in each direction. Beyond this wall lies the kingdom of Hades. Persephone, daughter of Zeus and Demeter, rules Elysium with a heavy crown and her tears, tears shed while imprisoned away from her distant home, are the gray bricks that constitute this wall. If one were to stop and listen to the whispering wind one could hear the tormented drone of a million souls that lie on the other side whom all patiently wait for their beloved.
I have seen Elysium. With half-closed eyes and an empty, skeletal gaze I have seen this wall as the junk flowed into my heart. I have felt the cool breeze as the exquisite poison soothed my twitching body. I have heard the pleading cries in the dull stillness between sluggish, hollow beats.
Elysium beckons.
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