The space is split in half and I am in the middle of it my entire life. In front of me I am staring at the abyss of the unknown and unobtained, so close to a black hole event horizon that it is all I can see looking even a tiny bit forward into any possible action. Behind me is the other half that contains all of my world and the things I have grown to know and have, a blinding white sun bursting with everything I have ever done.

I naturally strive forward towards the external and stop to rest on my own foundation of the internal. But the black bursting sun in a spherical white hole projection has a fractal corona, with what is always done as fractions of the already shortly cut piecewise steps forward. What is done is always less than what is planned, progress must be rounded to an acceptable quantum, and the larger portion remains outside the pushed boundary.

Eventually I realize that this is where I will always be with the unreachable singularity of the black hole never to be reached. I can always make myself feel better by getting closer to it forever and ever. But the present of my intersecting sun-hole horizons will remain forever here and now. What could truly fuel me to go on is not the unachievable goals ahead and everything I don't know and might never know, but behind me - in all the things I have actually done. What should truly drive me forward is in the middle between the two where I actually exist. This is where I try hard to shape my foundation with a sense of completeness that I can die in any moment or simply depart from any specific goal and everything I have done will remain complete for the resources and energy I have put into it. It is also where I turn the fraction of undone into a fitting piece for a clear conscious boundary.

I can thus store an infinity of potentials behind the horizon of blackness without realizing any of them and still have a few bright moments illuminate the rest of a singular concise truth that doesn't live in all the past known by me or in the unknowable future forever ahead. This horizon of true presence is however more fractional than that and its own separation is constantly shredded into smaller pieces until it blurs into vagueness beyond my memory and control. This is all due to an inflation of not just the space behind me but also of the space before me.

The expansion of space and the aging of time is something I am bound to feel more and more in my own life with my own aging and the expansion of my own blazing sun. Every old wish that once seemed close but I could not catch up to in time now seems to have accelerated away from me. My present now reaches a point where I can run for too long with all my remaining vigor and turbulent energy even after the closest of updated goals. Eventually everything remains forever out of reach while I am left to ponder at my own designation in the emptiness of a homogeneous boundary. If the universe is meant to die in ice with nothing but vacuum and black holes slowly fizzing away then it seems like my own fire throws so many flares at the nothingness to smother away even faster.

So I am left to cater for myself in my own empty subspace: to find fulfillment next to the unfulfilled wishes I always have and a direction in the misleading progress I always show, to reach a limited balance that is actually here with me but hard to get just right, and to shape the deeper detail of this horizon I am still on. I have to push completeness even further into the partial realization that falls short of any expectation. And in this completeness I find what being means and meaning is, all while searching for the missing detail.

The immense horizon thus gives a more foundational meaning with even more important meaning on top to build ourselves of, a lot of which might be surprisingly overturning. The winding paths that wonder off the initial destination. A twisting fractal of drive and direction and ultimately of being.