The Fine art of Expiry
April 27th, 2008This post deals mainly with:
- expiry
There are things in life that I may never want to hap. There are things that I will assay to conceal from, seek to hold away. There is though only one thing I fear, and that is death. I’ll cognise no former fear like I will cognise the fear of death.
Decease is the black thing in beingness. It is the bad hurting in life, the bass of lamentable ideas, and most persistent of any truth. It is the one thing in life that may never be replied; it can not be replied. No mortal will of all time cognise what death is genuinely, all we will cognise is that we all fall dupe to its powerfulness. Even then, we may never cognise what death is.
I do not cognize what to believe of death. When I was small, I conceived in Supreme Being and made not believe of death. Then I made not consider in Supreme Being and I dreaded death. As I turned aged, I made not conceive in anything and I oppugned death. Nowadays I consider in everything and I respect death. I still fear it. I fear Expiry more than language can tell, but I have a regard for it, a kind of regard that comes up with realizing life.
My fear of death comes up from not cognizing what it agency to give. The answer is not something a mortal can cognize, but it is something I search. A constituent of me haves that I ca not happen the answer piece I live, but I still search for it. It’s a sin to, a sin against life, but I ca not help it. I am corrupt with my want for the truth, but besides goaded by this want. It gives my knowledge, makes my wiseness, and yields me brainchild.
Mayhap there is hereafter after death. Perhaps there is a Supreme Being and a Nirvana, a the Tempter and an inferno. Peradventure there is a Gautama, or some other god, or something great. Perchance there is the Divine William Claude Dukenfield and Aides holding back for those who die, or perchance there is a quiet and calm land for psyches to go when death comes up. I hope there is hereafter, not simply for my interest, but more for everyone else’s interest. I am inhabitting a full life, but for those that die young, who die in such sorry shipways, in wars and cataclysms, they merit hereafter. Everyone merits hereafter. No one merits death.
I fear, though, that hereafter may not live. Hereafter is hard to explicate. It makes sense that it should live, but hitherto sense that it shouldn’t. It looks fit to state that either could live after life. I do not believe lots of can realize what no hereafter would be like; I myself can just fathom it. It’s no being, no being, misplaced evermore. It is the sinister notion and knowledge if dead on target, or merely a full laughter if not. It scares me to conceive that this could be the answer, that all this time I have been appearing for truth in death and it is standing up right in front end of me. If so, it is the black dark my optic will of all time set gaze upon.
I fear death, but I likewise fear attenuation. I do not want to populate a life of no purpose, only so one twenty I can decease. So plenty of citizenry live and die, attenuation away, evermore misplaced from mortal recognition. I do not want that. I do not want to be illustrious either. I want to stir lives earlier I die. I want to have a design, a ground for life and a ground for death.
I use to consider that we all should die at a sure historic period, that everyone should live equally, but I cognize that is unpointed. I nowadays simply hope that we all die at a sure detail in our lives, a detail where we are not afraid of death, where we can have it for the mantrap that it makes convey. It looks like it makes not hap. With so lots of citizenry conking at such dissimilar historic periods and multiplication in their lives, it appears like a lot of have not recognised Decease. Mayhap inside they have, bass inside. Even they may not be cognizant of it. That is what I can trust for. Nothing can occupy away my hope, not even death.
Expiry warrants nothing and answers nothing. It is not something that a mortal can yield extinct, can warrant as the right thing to do. It is Nature’s own small fry, and only Nature and life can yield death, not persons.
When I consider about it, I am prompted of that argumentation from a Queen regnant vocal: “Momma, I do not want to snuff it. Sometimes I wish I’d never been delivered at all.”
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