Spoiler
Hey readers and reviewers! This is my entry in the 250 word story contest "Beginning of the End". Basically the first word in the story had to be identical to the last word in the story (a difficult constraint when used in conjunction with a 250 word limit). Enjoy, but please offer your interpretations and criticisms - they are greatly appreciated. If it requires more than one reading then wonderful - that's my intention 
Cataclysm
Time was always an elusive foe, even from the Beginning. I spent many moments – like a comet’s tail tearing through the cosmos – chasing it - never looking back at my path of destruction.
I ignored the signs, like gravitational pulls, that threatened my dreadfully direct course. Ineptness entrenched in the entropically evolving ethos of culture, an evocative explosion of ecstasy defining my existence and a plethora of paradox that rent the very foundation of my beliefs.
I am the mind. If so, I am a prisoner – whether to the very thing I chase with fervour, or to the cast and mould set well before my eyes drank crafted light. (Much like the fixed path of that cosmic symbol).
I am the heart - a pulsing organ, dripping fallacies, tautologies and illusionary iridescence. The mind, too an illusion, as is all I have made.
I fiddle with fancies, toy with trivialities, and claim correspondence with cumbersome certainties. The truth is one such cert with which I wrestle, though truly, my only struggle is the very pursuit I preach – time.
I am a deity, a force, an answer – but only to the question that I pose. Purpose is pursued, meaning is mused and time is taken. And so the ultimate foe gains more distance, while I - the “victor” – stand over my effort and swell with self-importance. No audience to cheer.
Inevitable is the End, and no redemption will I earn. “I” am humanity, and “It” is only a matter of time.
