[ IP ] Sanctuary

Time is a fickle being. 
 
 In the span of a normal human life, it drives us to cherish that which is finite, and agonize over how precious our losses really are. 
 
 In excess, though, it demeans everything about our existence. I've woken up in this very same place enough times to equate to thousands of consecutive lifetimes. Every moment I've awoken, I've gone through the same process; I wake up and dispassionately check my body for changes that never come. On the other hand, the temple I've found myself in will occasionally change, usually by expanding its foundation or extending farther out into the seemingly-endless ocean over which it hovers. The engravings on the wall shift slightly. The bevels and shapes of the rafters, buttresses, and walls will change as well, shifting from perfectly-grooved to intricately-detailed and back. The patterns seem to tell stories, sometimes shaping into subjects as simple as flowers and animals, and at other times showing armored figures walking across foreign landscapes. 
 
 And even with the passing eons and contingent changes in this strange building, my body remains the same. The skin across my hands has n't shriveled. My reflection shows no signs of aging. The only dress I own, which I found myself wearing the moment I first awoke here, has n't frayed or faded from its scarlet-crimson color. It makes me ask if it is a sick feature of my human nature to expect to see decay, and to then feel discomforted when it does n't come? 
 
 I know what this world is. I know how I reached it. I even feel like I know how to find out who I once was. 
 
 I know that the foundation of this temple expands whenever I feel I've learned or contemplated something new, from a simple sense of understanding to a theory on why the world keeps myself and the water around me down and from just floating into space. I know that the patterns on the walls are sometimes shaped after my dreams. I know that the sun rises and sets in this world according to my whims, and even the starlights above brighten and dim with my mood. I know that if I wanted to, I could expand this temple out onto the edges of this reality, shape it into terrain ranging from rugged earth to polished marble, and even fill it with living, sentient inhabitants. 
 
 I know that I reached this world when I escaped the last one I lived in, one that made me feel destitute and compromised to my core. I know that the world's cruelty created sentiments within me that made me undertake a drastic attempt to leave it. I know that life was riddled with things like trauma, desolation, and abuse. I know this all started with the desire to find a reverie away from everything. A tranquil place of solace... A Sanctuary. 
 
 What I do n't know is why the only unlit corridors in this entire temple lead to a solemn, dimly-lit Library. I do n't know why its walls are lined to the brim with books that talk about civilizations that sound familiar even when I know I've never heard of them, along with their calendar systems, major figures, and their greatest historic and scientific achievements. Most importantly, I do n't know why there is a book in the center of this library, and why the three initials upon its face feel so nostalgic. 
 
 Have I died and become a god of this world? Is this what Sanctuary meant to me?.. Why have I hesitated in putting this power into use? Why can I not try establishing an ideal world here?.. And why do I spend so much time kneeling in front of this dark corridor, contemplating the heartfelt fear I have of failing to make my world any better than the one I came from? Why do I feel a certain terror when I ask myself what kind of person I'll become if I go back to that Library and remember everything that happened to me before I came here? 
 
 These past ages of indecision may continue to yield scores more, but I know at some point that I will either have to sink this library into the sea and abandon whatever wisdom my past life may offer me, or rediscover what these initials stand for and risk abandoning whatever heart I've grown back after being distanced so far, by time and rebirth, from such horrible memories.
