For some time now, I have been atop my mountain. Despite being some distance from the world, its sounds still permeate the place and break my fragile concentration. I too quickly succumb to its distractions, even though they are merely the whispers of what is elsewhere.

I suppose it hearkens back to an unavoidable truth: I climbed the mountain for the wrong reason or as the wrong person. Or, more charitably, at the wrong time.

I came here because I had failed to find a master to teach me the next steps of my craft or to show me a great truth of humanity in the world below. Therefore, I came here in the hopes that through meditation and experimentation, I could build my own curriculum. If wisdom could not be learned from the humans, perhaps it could be found in the contemplation of cold stone.

However, I find myself distracted by the whispers of humanity echoing from the world below and the warmth which creeps in from my memories. Perhaps I am just not ready or not able to commit to this path of isolated exploration.

I suspect that I don't know what I am looking for or how I would even know if I were to find it. Meaning, after all, is not just in abstract knowledge. There must be something about its application or communication to make it all seem worth it. Is a wise man who will never speak to another human being really any more wise than the fool who chatters incessantly to a crowd?

Also, I find that there is something wrong with my flesh. It knows its time is finite and that there is still the possibility of a warmth in human experience. My mind, however, is slowly becoming resigned to the likelihood that this time is already passed. Perhaps I left not to find something, but to protect others from my presence.

There isn't much more to say but I know that the way of things is unstable, and cannot last like this. I know that there is still experimentation and refinement of craft still to pursue before I can be certain if this was all for nothing.

Then again, it isn't like there was another option,
...Nights