. and now here i stand .
. with the last obsidian lengths of the afterlife dissolving around me .
. i hear an audible hiss, and turn to see the boat crumbling in on itself .
. it's my raft and yet it isn't .
. only a few souls out of the nameless masses had ever mattered .
. and yet, in some way or another, they had all mattered .
. i had simply chosen to blink through a few of them .
. and now the lantern implodes, snuffing out the last shred of mystic light .
. i turn around and face where i knew the pond to be .
. in the bowels of oblivion, i can almost make it out .
. like a blacker-than-black circle staring back at me .
. it's the first thing that's scared me in eons .
. now we're talking .
. a breath sparks before me, then dissipates .
. i guide myself by the strobe, my hooves making ghostly echoes against the glassy surface .
. i'm no longer counting the steps i take .
. i'm no longer thinking of anything, only faces .
. the eyes and manes and muzzles of loved ones .
. with a final breath, the spark reflects my face as i bow to the pond water .
. and i see all of those colors dangling around me .
. flaring in the breeze as the final veil falls .
. then icy, icy water, numbing, soothing .
. coming apart .
. threads and ribbons and the spaces between laughter .
. good night, twilight, pinkie, applejack .
. soft and slow, like a lullaby .
. fluttershy, spike, rarity .
. curling up, drifting off, floating .
. i love you, guys. .
. black .
. i love... .