somthg i wrote a few mths back...when i was in one of those moods. forgive the inconsistencies, sp mistakes and uneven flow. i din (and dont) bother to check when i write stuff like this.

In the darkness and the night, despair and lonliness are greatest. I never like finishing great novels because the journey ends when they do and I am left behind. Even more so is my grief when novels like The Lord of the Rings end… the dwindling, the loss, the fading goes straight to the heart. Like Sam standing on the darken shore watching his beloved master and loved friends depart forever from Middle-earth and from his life, I am left behind as well...and it aches. I feel that this is the end, almost. The Fellowship finally sundered, Legolas and Gimli we see no more, Boromir long dead, Aragon on his high seat, Merry, Pippin and Sam, faithful old Sam. It is but the winds of Change and Time, blowing the sands of the past away and fetching the uncertain future, the unfamiliar, unknown, new future. They are but part of the great Story of life, which will never end. Time unravels and stretches far beyond knowing; likewise the Story continues. Bombadil, Fangorn, the creatures and inhabitants of old, far beyond reckoning and history, older than time and memory – “Eldest”. They will remain and endure, and yet not forever. The fading of the glorious past, the softening of the great days, the diminishing of powers old and high… The 3 Rings are no more, mere baubles, relics of power that once was and now gone. And the despair lingers and gnaws, eating further into the sense of loss… the gulf of space and time yawns before and the night is so dark, so black… What that once was is now gone, what that remains is but an echo, a faint mimicry of the past; dwindling and fading even more as the years continue to erode, eating away at what is left. The great evil has been vanquished but at what cost? Innocence, peace, the familiar, rest… all washed away by the necessity of the time, the moment, in the struggle to preserve and protect. That a few must be sacrificed for the greater ignorant. That the hero will rise from the one least likely and yet best suited if only because he sees with his heart and is aware of his inadequacies. And thus, the truly strong are those who fight with love…