The sunrise was now far behind him. His journey was drawing to its end. The sunset in front of him filled the sky. The memories of things behind him began fading and he found most of his thoughts now converging on the setting sun. Before they utterly slipped from memory he recalled some of the paths he had taken to reach this point; some of the paths and some of the people he had met as their journeys intersected with his. He remembered the many crossroads with their dangers, toils and snares, and the paths he wish he had taken and the ones he wish he had not; the happy paths he chanced upon and the unpleasant ones he was glad to exit. He thought how long his journey had been. Some of the people he met walked on journeys far too short, at least in his opinion; but that really wasn't his affair. He only knew the length of his travel felt sufficient to him, and now that he had reached this lone and final path, that was good enough. He had ascended this crag and tail as long as seemed proper. He recalled how gentle and easy the rise was at first, with the sunrise imbuing everything with a rosy glow. Later the ascent at times became rough, with clouds hiding the sun; but there was no obstacle he hadn't either surmounted or found some way around. And now he was approaching the apex of the crag, the end of his journey, and he assumed the precipice would be be overlooking an unimaginably steep and dizzying abyss. The very thought of that abyss disquieted him and he stood still, wavering. It was then, though, he thought he could just make out, still far in the distance at the edge of the precipice and silhouetted by the sunset, a figure, a figure with arms outstretched toward him. He studied the figure for some time. Then, with a shrug and a smile, he sloughed off the last memories of what lay behind him and continued upward on his way.
