A Return to Form

The ever-changer stood at the edge of the cliff. He wondered if today would be the day that he would bring it all to an end. If today would be the day that he finally mustered the courage to bring his one desire to fruition. If today would be the day, after so many countless millennia, that he would finally rest.
Pensively he looked at the vast landscape spread out before him. It was nearly dusk and there was a strong wind blowing. That was good; he would need that. He looked down at his feet which were precariously close to the cliff’s edge. He had no fear of falling. He had only one fear and that was the bringing about of his own end, even though he so desperately yearned for it.
The unknown. That was his one fear. How could it not be, when everything but this was known to him? He had had so many experiences; lived so many lives. For eons he had existed in countless forms, experiencing everything that one could possibly experience. At various points he had been every kind of creature which walked upon the earth, swam in its seas, or flew in its skies. He had lived for centuries among the wild things, in packs of wolves, flocks of gulls, schools of fish. From the great lizards that ruled the planet so long ago, to tiniest microorganism that existed as but a single cell.
Of course he had spent the majority of time in a form similar to the one he now inhabited. That of a man. Or woman, when he so desired. So many lives… It was as a man that he had the deepest of his experiences; no other form could stir his emotions in such a strong and vivid manner. He had loved the most truly as a man and he had taken innumerous partners over the vast span of his life. Spending what seemed like only an instant with each of them until they faded away, falling beyond his reach. And when that happened he would move on, changing forms, changing lives, and starting anew. It had been this way for so long…
And when even the experiences of being a man became dull and ordinary, he would reach for something new to grasp, something unfamiliar to excite his senses. From his imagination he would create a unique form, a beast which had never been seen before, giving birth to the great legends of man. Dragons and angels and gremlins… all of the fantastic creatures which had become the myths and folklores of humanity… They had all be he, seeking something to invigorate himself, some new way to reinvent himself. He had been worshipped as a god among men, many times over. He remembered the various names he had taken. The ancient Egyptians had called him Ra, to the Sumerians he was Anshan, and the Romans had known him as Jupiter. Men came to worship him easily, deducing that only a deity could become whatever it wanted. But after such a long span of time even the worship of entire civilizations became ordinary and dull.
So he would take reprieve as a rock or a flower, spending a century or two simply existing as something still and quiet. He had spent over a millennia as a tree, growing taller than any of the others in the forest. These experiences however offered only a temporary respite.
Invariably he would begin to feel the pull of humanity, calling him to return once again. And he would take on a new life; living, loving, experiencing, until that too bored him once again. And so the cycle was repeated over and over for countless ages… man, rock, insect, tree… always changing… always changing…
Eventually there were no new experiences to be had. No form he had not previously taken, nothing left to see or do or discover for the first time. When nothing is new, when everything is simply a rehashing of some other experience, the lust for life begins to wane. And it had been fading from his being for some time now. What was the point in going through the same endless routine, the motions always so redundant, so repetitive? He tried to think back to the last new experience he had known, but he could not remember. There was so much information to sift through, so many infinite memories. They became blurred together until he could not distinguish his first experience from his twentieth, his hundredth, his thousandth. Who was the first wife he had ever taken…? He couldn’t even remember which one had been the original. The memories sloshed and swirled in his mind until they were indistinguishable from each other.
He had been simply “existing” in this dysthymic state for longer than he could now bear. He had learned to tolerate this state of apathy, but was this even living anymore? No, he reasoned, it was merely being. To live implied feeling, and he had stopped truly feeling long ago. There was no passion left, no fire in his soul. There was nothing new…
He corrected himself, silently. There was one thing he had never done, never experienced, never known. Death. He had never ceased to be. Only then would he find reprieve from the monotony of this existence. Originally he had not even thought it possible. How could he, the ever-changing one, the ever-lasting one, simply cease to be? No natural force could cause him harm, his various forms were never placed in any mortal peril. How was it possible to extinguish the flame, to snuff it all out…
But like everything the answer eventually became known to him. When one has lived for as long as he had, in as many different forms as he had, there was nothing that could remain hidden forever. Eventually all things would come to be known.
He knew he could end it all with one more change. A final change, and the ever-changer would be no longer. He had come to the knowledge intuitively, like so much of what he learned. It was actually a simple matter. He only had to return to his original state, his very first form from which he was born. Once taken, he knew it would also be his last and he would cease to be…
And that was indeed what he wanted. But still, he was afraid. Unsure if he had the mettle to actually do it, to go through with what would be his final act. Doubt, fear, uncertainty… although disconcerting, he welcomed these feelings. They made him feel something, at least. That fact alone, assured him that this was the right course, the proper action to take. Eons had lead him to this point, here at the edge of a cliff, staring at the vista before him, contemplating his own demise. A demise which would not bring grief, like the ones of his mates had, but comfort. Rest. Peace after so much time…
Looking to the sky, he saw that the luminescence of the moon was attempting to keep the darkness at bay. The glowing orb had been the one constant in his various lives. As lovers and friends came and went, the moon was a consistent companion. In many ways he was like that orbiting rock, he thought. Passing from one phase to the next, repeating an endless cycle of change. But like the phases of the moon, he was no longer really achieving anything distinct. Just temporarily remaking himself for a time. Changing, but constant nonetheless. Could he fathom a future of such endless monotony? A never-ending cycle of the same dreary pattern?
No; today would be the day, he decided. He would be brave enough, bold enough to carry through. He raised his arms and felt the cool evening wind whip at his body. The wind was blowing strongly now. Good; he would need that.
The ever-changer summoned every bit of his will and through that will he changed. In a moment his human form collapsed upon itself and he became… dust. So many tiny particles of dust…
The wind caught these modicums and began to carry them forth from the cliff’s edge. His form spread into countless directions, each particle being carried further and further away from the others. As he allowed the wind to carry him, he began to feel his grasp on the world slip away. His mind became clouded until he could no longer realize what was happening; he was no longer certain where or what he was. The motes of dust blew across the landscape, the wind carrying them to whatever unknown place they would eventually reach and settle upon. It was as if he was evaporating, his sentience being spread across a great divide, like… like so many specks of dust. And the ever-changer knew, with his final coherent thought, that he had done it. He had ceased to exist and come into the embrace of his final mate, his last partner… oblivion.