The future that died that night is reborn each day in Alchemy’s eternal music—the man becoming the myth and the myth becoming the vision, singing through time.
Moses will travel to Orient Point. Alone.
He will pass the house where he was born but will not enter. He will walk along the shore where he was conceived. By the grave site of his brother and what was once his, and one day will be again.
He will fall.
His lips will close in a wry smile that turns suddenly sublime.
Above him are no stars. The moon not yet down. The sun not yet risen. The pink-blue-black dust swirls and becomes his sky. No ascent to heaven. No descent to hell. No more questions without answers. No more howls for meaning.
At last, and forever, peace.