As the setting sun submitted once again to the sleepy moon, the stars appeared out of the blue to illuminate the dark. Hours had passed and the afternoon’s empty orchestra of softly blowing wind silenced into a soundstage for crickets and frogs whose operatic concerto accompanied him along his way. Not really knowing where he was going, or when he’d eventually turn back, Friedrich, or Fred, depending on your own preference and degree of acquaintance, felt no urge to return into the night from which he came. The road was not long, for no destination called to him, and to his surprise he was welcomed by the starlight that revealed a whole new world he once thought he knew so well. Sleep has robbed me of the mysterious side of this life, he thought aloud as he looked upward toward an endless sky.

On an especially engrossing late-afternoon walk, it can become difficult to give into the body’s desire for rest or its want to return to the comforts of home. On this particular day, Fred had faced little opposition from either his aching legs or from his heart. It must have been the sight of the old woman and her cane that he’d seen earlier in the morning hours from his office window. The familiar and seemingly ancient lady had made her slow and meticulous way down her drive to collect whatever mail lay in wait in the letter box. The thought of the lifetime’s worth of effort that had gone into each arthritic step, of each push of her arm stabilized by her cane, and of every breath that made her journey from chair to roadside offered but a glimpse of old-age torment, and was what had inspired him to step out of his cubicle for good. He imaged it was worth every step, for whatever words remain hidden on the pages of each letter received must have brought her a panacea of joy for each aching muscles and fibers. Walking with this thought in his mind, he continued undeterred through the dark that surrounded him.

Restrained by his mere mortal facilities, Friedrich eventually stopped to ponder a rest upon a small stone near a tiny bog. Now, far from the city and suburbs which he had left behind without so much as a consideration, most comforts such as warm food or soft cushion to rest his now slightly sore behind were more apparently absent. Unwilling to falter, or more precisely, to give up this most enjoyable afternoon walk which had turned to a nighttime stroll, our protagonist turned to the light of the moon to guide him towards a small little clearing, where, next to a rather large and healthy maple tree, sprouted the most delectable brown mushrooms polka-dotted in white.

Curiosity eventually gave way to pangs of hunger, and, trusting in his instinct as he had so far that day, he ate one, then two, then five mushrooms altogether, at which point he sat under the tree and, with a deep breath, looked up through its leaves which swayed in peaceful silence above. The stars and moon, perhaps recognizing that Friedrich was in need of a slight distraction to help him relax, began to dance a very elegant waltz with the leaves and their parent branches along to the songs of the crickets and frogs from a nearby marsh.

*****

The next morning Fred woke to a drowsy collection of fading dream-memories, which he took to remembering in painstaking effort as he set off through the thick, early mist. Those dreams had been unlike any he had ever experienced, most of which had amounted to nothing more than a collection familiar images and patterns, colors and faceless voices… But these new dreams had been constructed by such a skillful architect the likes of which he had not thought possible to come from his own imagination, certainly they could not be his own machinations?

The pre-dawn’s morning haze took shapes before his eyes as he continued along towards nowhere in particular. His dreamscape played out before him in the shapes and patters of the fog, revealing first a long climb up a rocky mountain, a rather funny looking goat with a pink beard and blue eyes, and a talking dog that loved playing the mountain snow. The dog and goat were siblings who lived together in the rocky hills at the base of a very tall mountain, one that seemed to reach past the clouds and touched the blue of the sky. They had beckoned him to follow him up the mountain, but he told them that he had to walk on, that he had to continue with his journey. Other dreams had followed that had made more sense, but by this point the sun began breaking through the thick murk and so with it disappeared the memories of the dreams.

When you walk for a long time, you meet many people, and you experience many things. Time compresses and compacts itself, making its passage seem as seamless as falling asleep and waking. Without realizing it, or perhaps without caring to realize it, Friedrich’s life became one with the road; as he had forgotten about his job, his responsibilities, his house, his comforts, and most likely even the road back to whatever home he once had. Days, months, and years seemed to pass by as easily as the ‘hello’s’ and ‘good day’s’ shared with many a friendly passerby. Yet the path was endlessly entertaining and ever changing. So too were the variety landscapes, people, and of problems and solutions. As Friedrich grew older, as his pace of walk slowed, as the aches and pains caught up with his knees and his back, he watched as children remained awestricken by new discoveries, as lovers continued to sing sweet poems to one another, as young families set root, as everything, more or less, stayed the same.

Though aged and worn, Fred’s legs had kept to a decent pace over the years, and one day in particular a young man had walked up to him and took to walking next to him while asking the kinds of youthful questions a person of his age would. Sir, he’d once asked, where’s an old guy like you heading with such brisk? Friedrich turned to the young man, and recalling the old woman he had seen at the very beginning of his journey said;

Young man, I don’t suppose I know where I’m going. To the end of the world perhaps, if these old legs can reach it before they give. I’ve never been so interested in the whole ‘arrival’ or ‘departure’ part of it, but I can say that I’ve enjoyed the in between quite a bit. He paused, I once had a dream, and in that dream a voice told me that to discover the world is to discover yourself, to replace the unknown with the known is to define yourself, and if the years would serve as proof I’d say that I took that advice quite to heart. I expect you know where you’ll end up at the end of today, but wouldn’t you think life to be far more interesting if you didn’t?

The young man frowned and stopped at that instant. Unbothered, Friedrich continued at his pace, ignoring the child’s confusion, as he had learned long before to allow a young mind to figure out certain things on its own and with time, and that realization is quite akin to the process of fitting a model ship into a glass bottle: never all at once, only ever piece by piece.

*****

It happened unexpectedly one afternoon, as such a thing as actually reaching the end of the world could not be expected at any time of day or night. Even if you’d been there before it wasn’t the kind of place that fit nicely onto any human made map. Where the sun should have been keeping guard for at least three more hours, an eerie darkness introduced by a deep crimson sky crept out of the distance, eventually reaching over the head of our adventurer. No stars occupied the growing darkness that stretched before him.

Friedrich did not look back at the light as it faded behind him. The chirping of birds drew further and further, and the road became unbeaten and rough. Suddenly, from across the horizon, for as far as his eyes could see the earth’s rounding was being stopped by a rather intimidating wall. With each step that he took, the wall seemed to grow taller and ever more imposing, offering no warmth or comfort to Friedrich as he approached.

The dirt path led him to an entrance in the wall, which now revealed itself to be made of thickened leaf and thorn. Next to the opening sat a rather large tree, under which stood a wooden sign covered by a metal plaque onto which the following message was engraved:

TRAVELER BE WARNED: Here, perched at the end of the known world; the entrance to the Labyrinth of Truth. Within its walls is a maze of such enormous complexity that only the most valuable of items could be secluded at its center. The prize for such a conquest is the final answer to the greatest of ever-expanding questions: WHY? The answer to the universe’s ultimate mystery has tempted many, but be warned seeker of truth, successfully finding the heart of any labyrinth also entails finding one’s way out… Enter at your own peril.

Upon reading the foreboding sign, Fred sat next to where it was planted in the ground and leaned up against the tree.

Life has been an adventure, and I have learned much, he thought. Though I’ve often asked myself ‘why’ in the face of rather confusing and often saddening situations, and though the world and its people may not have given me any prevailing answer per se, they have given me new paths to follow and greater questions to ask. I’ve learned more from seeing the world than I ever could have from an explanation of it, and an answer is no more of an explanation than the path towards discovery. I would rather face the collapse of my knees and the blistering of my feet than to give up my journey in exchange for death in search of a final destination.

Fred put his hand up against the tree, and with all of his might pushed himself up. He dusted off his old pants and took one final look at the entrance to the Labyrinth of Truth. Perhaps its time to head back, he thought, and with that turned around and walked out of the darkness back towards the bright afternoon sun.