it is finished

Done. Breathe. It feels.....weird. While my grey matter can process objective data pretty quickly, it's quite slow to digest and ruminate over emotions. Below all the usual suspects of finishing - relief, joy, free time, etc - runs one that is a bit hard to describe. I am standing upon a continent and the earth begins to move. Something at my core seems to have emerged. A new land mass bubbling up from deep below through a fissure in the land mass. What it is, I don't know yet. The lava hasn't stopped flowing. After that it still must cool, changed by the weather and then colonized by life. Who knows what it will look like then? Or, among the cacophany of often disparate characters that is my psyche, a hereto unknown individual stands up and demands to be counted. Small at first, it is growing, morphing, becoming self aware, and changing with each rising and setting of the moon. Its voice grows as a wave resonates, it's hum growing until its vibrations are palpable.