What I see ahead is condensed to a pinpoint. Tunnel vision, but so much more narrow. Bright all around except at the end of the tunnel and there at the end, a massive darkness. Not that I would call what’s all around me now as I head into it is fully lit. More like a haze from a fire. All around the dark point at the end is dim light that is only bright by comparison.  

“Everyone is fighting a Battle you cannot see,” says a poster quoting fifteen different people. Everyone’s battle is out there in the haze you cannot penetrate. Light’s useless. Sound matters and everyone’s battle sounds like bad pop music from this end of the tunnel. 

What I see ahead is a gun barrel in the guerrilla night. I’m traveling down through it. Looking forward to roar upon exit, and then silence. Looking forward to full light. The tunnel expanding in a rush to a landscape. Everyone at war but for a few.

I go into the unblinding as if I’m now a stone tumbling in rapids along a hard bed. Who can say how smooth this will make me?  All the polishing, the wearing down until I myself become a point.

A light at a tunnel’s end. Now-brilliant haze all around.

Sounds of battle becoming dance.