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Simon was. He was the congealed blood and gas bubbles that made up the pseudo floor of this ocean. He was each drop of blood. He was the gaping veins and tendrils writhing about beneath the sloshing surface. He was the beast that swam through the crimson and the currents that flowed beneath its fins.
Simon wasn't. He wasn't the man who stood in Filament Station as it was destroyed. He wasn't the convict who was rotting away in that barren metal box with a tiny window to show off the hollow starlight, nor the convict drowning in radiation in a new iron confinement. He wasn't the little boy who's mother taught him how to kill an adult with a mere three stabs.
Simon didn't understand what he was. Glancing down at his hands, he saw it all and nothing; his left a pillar of clogged yet bursting arteries that never emptied and his right carved from raw oak, his creator never bothering to even peel off the bark.
Or was it his un-doer? Did that consciousness convulsing through the waves mold him from clay or did it squeeze him apart like a child playing with mud? Turn him into microscopic flecks that were now splattered everywhere like flotsam?
All at once, dwelling upon what he witnessed brought him back. While he's unsure he has a mouth any longer, he could feel himself gasp— as well as feel the sea rushing in unison.
It was beautiful, that was hard to deny. Every color that has ever been flashed before him, prismatic, even reaching beyond the spectrum he used to be confined to. There was something so horribly different about it, so primal, a star fizzling and pulsing before it caved in on itself. Possibly what made it so strange was that he could tell it was real. The beacons twinkling beyond were empty promises yet this was here, so blazing hot that it made him melt and beating with the tempo of a heart.
Tendrils of pure plasma wrapped around him, tender and oddly, not burning him up. Perhaps its because he's already faded. Ash can't burn, after all.
His nerves exploded with joy, throbbing in time with The Light, his new heart and soul. Tears welled up in his shining eyes, beaming with a mouthful of razor sharp teeth.
The Light loved him, didn't It? It saved him from the end of the universe, freed him from his prison, both the chains and his mortal form. How kind and caring It was to guide him in the dark, to take off his blindfold and help him understand. Destruction allowed him clarity and now he was reborn with all of the knowledge that was once forbidden.
He sighed with a whirlpool, feeling the combined love of the infinite, all directed towards him.