I know that my apprehensions might never be allayed, and so I close, realizing that perhaps, the ending has not yet been written.
Still, the question of whose hands might someday hold my Myst book are unsettling to me.
I have tried to speculate where it might have landed, but I must admit, however- such conjecture is futile.
It continued falling into that starry expanse of which I had only a fleeting glimpse.
I realized, the moment I fell into the fissure, that the book would not be destroyed as I had planned.
I know that my apprehensions might never be allayed, and so I close, realizing that perhaps, the ending has not yet been written.