Based on the supposed paradox of Buridan's Bridge, authored by Jean Buridan in Sophismata, during the late middle ages. It involves the subject of my writing enduring a tough experience and finally coming to the end of the physical state we call life
A classic example of the human mind overthinking because of the lack of 'self-understanding'. I find this to be one of the most laughable propositions available for perusal and how the slightly more intelligent took command in times of collective 'simplicity'.
This concept is also explored in the 1975 comedy film, Monty Python and the Holy Grail's, Bridge of Death scene.
This is an original written work by 
Without further hesitation, I present to you 'Borne In Mind', by M.P.Heliodromus.
Borne In Mind
Feet shredded and oozing from never ending pounding of terrain, howling wind blistering exposed skin, ocular senses desperately scanning for some oasis to provide respite from this infinite torture. The hardship stirs memories of pastures lush and green, gentle yet violent, and a longing for what was, but is no more.
The ground sends an inferno through my frame, as my memory fades back into my present reality. Shaken by the realisation of the abyss I navigate tentatively, I fall to my knees, palms striking the floor with force akin to descending meteors. Breathing heavy, tears falling freely, I begin to notice small piles of grey ash littered about my path. Suddenly, my unconscious voice increases in volume, reminding me of the gravity of what I am witnessing. Those whose similar journey to mine, ended before their time. A chilling comprehension at their inability to trust themselves, I wipe the liquid from my eyes, grit my teeth and strain with all my strength to pull myself from the ground.
Shadows begin to dominate my peripheral, the Sun blinding my once clear view ahead, still I march forwards with all the resolve carried by an undying warrior with one objective in mind, body and soul. Dark whispers fill my ears as each foot passes in front of the other. I shake their notions from my heart, whilst a gentle hum ahead becomes louder with each step I take.
My fragile body and faith in almost tatters, my goal is within my grasp. The hum now a mighty, constant, deafening roar, yet not painful or uncomfortable to me. My sight is most definitely not what it once was, colour faded and all opaque, I feel my way to the precipice of my travels.
The murky outline of a figure stands before me blocking any further route forward as I step to either side, only to be matched at every stance. I pause in almost grief-stricken anger.
A voice reaches me from the silhouette. “If you speak the truth brother, I shall let you pass. If you answer falsely, I will surely cast you into the eternal abyss”. I respond with all that I know to be true, “I am the path”.
The End? Perhaps not.
M.P. Heliodromus
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