Of Climaxes, Ends and Beginnings[1]

A final flash of passion and emotive energy, slowly draining to emptiness; then a strange kind of satisfactory loneliness, seeking perhaps a form of internal unity, perhaps even a new dimension of being – feeling.

Unlike so many other events in life that lack a clear, definable, infinitesimal temporal component but rather, evolve unnoticed until they just are, this event has a clear point of origination, singularly alive and definable, quantitatively and qualitatively, unique, culminative, perhaps in its own way, orgasmic.  But the orgasm is too conclusive, leaving nothing for any future other than echoes and shadows, memories of memories in shades of white, the darkest barely approaching lightest grey.

And now, … what next?  Traversing the infinite empty spaces between elementals, or is it the infinite distances between galaxies.  How distant is the space between universes, infinitely large or infinitely small, or both concurrently.

Are their spaces between feelings?