What we hate in others is what we’re ashamed of in ourselves.
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From the day the darkness exploded and expanded, death was to follow. At the instant that time became time, it began to run out. Life and death are but two sides to the same coin. When something is given life, it is inevitably given death at the same instant. When a thought is thought, it is inevitably going to be forgotten. When a movement is made, it will eventually come to rest. The eros and thanatos are always in an epic battle, but the battle is in one direction, and that is in the direction of annihilation. Over the horizon, we can wish and hope that there will be something to do, or we can wish and hope for eternal rest. The wisest of humans are the ones who have come to terms with death, and come to terms with the possibility of infinite annihilation or infinite life, both of which can be rather unsavory outcomes.
There’s a consistent need for those who feel morally superior to spew out their naive superiority, in an attempt to bestow upon us a merciless mercy. Some of the ugliest people are the ones shrouded in shrouds, who hold opinions ranging from “goodness”, “kindness”, and other topics; the problem is, for them it’s just theoretical because they don’t practice what they preach. Although, they may act as if they are practicing what they preach… look deeper and you’ll find that they are trying to belong somewhere, with some people, and are trying to not only shroud themselves for publicity, but are also shrouding themselves from themselves out of fear of themselves.
It is often easy for the true moral people to take a backseat to the darkness and hatred of those who are under the impression that they are morally superior. It is often common that those with real principles, grounded in fairness, kindness, and true mercy will take a back seat, out of despair that the world around them is not ready for honesty and real compassion. The world is full of actors, and life itself is an act for many, if not for most. But for the few, acting is just not a way to live; but in a world of actors, acting seems to be the way for influence. I for one refuse to be an actor, and a friend to actors.
Riding on a horse without a name
With no one to talk to nor blame
An eternal game, life and desire’s flame
Who’s who? And to whom do we belong for claim?
Fortune and fame, it all seems lame
But leaving it for others is a poor shame
And so here I am, riding on a horse
A horse without a name, whom I do not claim, with no one to blame
And I too belong to no one for claim! Striving for life, desire, fortune
And fame… To keep the arrogant tame, and remind the shameful of their
It’s not the timid schizophrenic who I fear. He is busy being tormented with the demons that haunt him. It is not the manic nor the depressed nor the anxious that I fear, for they too are haunted by demons and often require a friend and some help. Rather, it’s the “normal” people that do not hesitate hurting one another, judging one another, sabotaging one another, and who are awfully quick to punish and ostracize those they consider to be different or insane.
Is it not the “normal” masses that attacked scientists, philosophers, and thinkers time and time again, stunting the progression of human civilization? Is it not the normal who hoard money, selfishly, while their neighbors starve? Is it not the normal who have locked up criminals who were nothing more than a product of the “normal” society? Is it not the normal who have tortured others, in the name of upholding the law? Is it not the normal who have followed tyrant after tyrant straight down the road to hell? Is it not the normal who have delusions about human significance? Is it not the normal who share a common delusion of human grandiosity?
What is so normal about normalcy?
He has gone unfed
A piece of unreachable bread
Nourishing fear and dread
Vultures soar, hungry for the dead
As he goes unfed
His mother’s heart has bled
And bleeds, as her son goes cold
As time goes by, it becomes more precious. As the days that have passed remain in our memories, to be relived on demand. But as days go by, and memories form, the days to come are less and less. Anything which loses abundance becomes desired, as the diamonds of Africa or the withering fields of black gold.
As time goes by, it runs faster. Not because the seconds speed up, but our perception of those seconds speeds up. At 26, I have experienced 26 years, and many seconds have come and passed. I compare my time today, to the time that passed, and as the time that passes becomes more and more, I have more to compare that second to. When I was but a second old, the next second represented that which I lived, in the second before.
Time moves forward, in a forward march. It marches to the sound of a coming death. For in the time that is present, let us cherish it, and live it well. Let us appreciate the time we have, the company we have, and move forward, to the sound of life to come.