The Captivity of the Nameless: Deep in Limbo
The Captivity of the Nameless: Deep in Limbo
"I am in a bondage within boundaries... a loss, or its other name: Limbo."
Inside this vessel of flesh and bone dwells something that has no name. It is older than the body it inhabits, yet it is forced to measure its existence with the ticking of a clock. It is a guest that has forgotten its home, a king who has lost its crown, a whisper trapped in a scream.
Limbo is not a place; it is the realization of the bars.
To look through eyes but not to be the eyes. To touch through skin but not to be the skin. This is the ultimate exile. The "Nameless One" inside us yearns for the infinite, yet it is tethered to the finite. It is like an ocean trying to fit into a single drop of water—the pressure is what we call "existence."
In the depths of Limbo, there is no time. There is only the weight of being. We wander in the corridors of our own minds, knocking on doors that lead only back to ourselves. We are lost not because we lack a map, but because we are the map itself, folded a thousand times.
Perhaps this captivity is the price of awareness. To know you are in Limbo is to begin the escape. But where do you go when the prison is your own reflection?
You wait. You listen. You endure the silence of the soul.
Because in the deepest part of Limbo, the Nameless One begins to understand:
The boundaries are not there to keep you in, but to define the shape of your eventual explosion back into the stars.
E.G.
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