Peeking out from behind the veil of silence, all that we see is ourselves. All that we feel is our presence. All that we know comes from us and defines us. Emboldened by our hopes and dreams we love to alter, change and amend our environment with our totality. Seeing ourselves we live up to temptation so that when we finally let the dust settle we can take refuge in the fact that there we are, as fully suspected all along.
We are right.
As our rightness flees from the grasp of eternal hope and desire we eventually come to find that ever since boredom set in the descent to our version of hell takes on new meaning; can we make it go any faster? Arriving fully announced we share the road with no one and boastfully expose ourselves to the elements of wisdom and truth. It is indeed a very strange and wonderful universe. So much so that it's ending can and will be denied.
As we are entirely alone in this universe, left to fend for ourselves, who could blame the messenger for laying down to die from the turmoil so wrought. No Man is an island. Please take note of that1.
For a wing and a prayer there is much that can be done but when all is said and done nothing remains. No thing at all remains. So what's the hurry to pull the plug? As all things do come to pass, the lesson is in the living.
It's 'okay' to remain until the bitter end but I assure you the fruit's bitterness has long since left the building and in it's place there has arisen the power of adoration, that we are.
And for God's sake, leave the messenger alone. ↩