We say it and repeat it, we know that it’s true – forward time is the illusion wherein we write purpose
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The measure of life is our relationships and impact upon others. We keep family close because they provide easy relief from the score.
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It all sounds so melodramatic, so childish and moot. All we seek is comfort and joy as distraction from work, all we get is our work and more work and the task. Are we meant to create heaven on Earth? then we have much ahead of still yet to accomplish, much understanding and great effort to peaceable accord between citizens and nations.
Are we to conquer evolution, the limits of existence and sustenance, the Earthly bonds that hold us back from understanding and becoming the stars? Then our scientific journey only just begins and our divisions only retard the long trek.
Are we meant to just establish a safe lot for us and ours, and provide so our family survives? What’s the point in that but to ignore larger aims.
Or is it just a black hole, are we just spinning round and round?
Anyway, it is hard, of course, it seems absurd, but that absurd is just the easy way out. We have our great purpose, Olympian, like Zeus we must kill God and become him, or else live as slaves to the past, slaves to the certainty of what was, rather than trembling masters looking forward to what might be. God struck down Babel’s tower, and like cowards we never attempt to rebuild it. Damn the cowards, damn the past, damn the altars and sacrifice burning. The only sacrifice is the self, the only lesson the universal, damn the lot who choose comfort and ignore it.
They tell me I should find my peace, tell me the rage is unhealthy, for me and others, so they tell me to extinguish my light. The rage is what guides me when all else goes out, what empowers the destruction of idols and saints.
Meet the buddha and kill him,
call the president by his birth name,
slap the pope if blessing lets your cross paths.
Never forget, as a side lesson, God is always still a man, anyone saying other is delusional, a fraud, or cheap liar. God is a man while we worship, God is a man while we cower, God is a man while we need his religion. Where is faith-school founded wholly be women, where is a religion today crafted by woman’s hand? It doesn’t exist, we worship men, though always women we expect to support and conform.
Yet still, those old systems continue, still we all walk in chains, we ask liberation to calm down and change. Don’t rock the boat, come child settle down, just relax, slight yourself, take a seat.
Conform to the times, conform to our reality, don’t make it hard on everyone else and just change. Do not rage, rage against the dying of light, just go gentle and quiet in the night. Frail deeds for frailty, NO.
Rage, rage, fight with fire, rage against the dying of the light, rage until the rage conquers the night, rage, rage, conquer the rage, conquer the man, conquer light. Rage against time so we might defeat death, rage against space so we overcome limits, rage against God so we might yet transcend.
I feel spent, exhausted and spent, all used up while still new, already bone tired and I have not yet begun. Used up, worn down, tired out, round and round.
Round and round the rugged rock
this raggéd rascal ran
Round and round the rugged rock
the raggéd rascal ran
Round and round the rugged rock
our raggéd rascal ran
Round and round the rugged rock
still raggéd rascal ran.
Round and round the rugged rock
Round and round the rugged rock
Round and round the rugged rock
the raggéd rascal runs.
If we rage, we must do so alone, or we risk hurting those round about.
Last night I dreamt a rattlesnake lived inside my mouth. At first, it crawled in then began biting and swelling my tongue. After contention, the two began to live together and grow in accord, then became one and my tongue was no more, only a snake now living inside my mouth. It hissed and played the rattles music, making sweet sounds I heard in my head, and I grew to like its singing, began forgetting it was there. But every time I tried to speak, it whipped out instead. Biting, spitting venom, it lept out from my head attacking any approach. A passing musician Indian came walking through one day, music coming out his ears, beads all around his head. A cage-like mask covered his jaw, and I saw the cobra therein. I found a facemask of my own, and turned my snake into music, got the rattling outside my head. The sound still sweet, the snake grew calm, where folk once fleed they now gathered instead.
Of course all this means I must overcome and outgrow the strength of my demons. Like mankind before me, I must take charge of the fire, contain it, manipulate it to work towards benefit and our enlightenment. Once tapped into the inner energy, taking advantage of human fusion, we can expand, combine, grow, overcome, and supplant. When absolved of restrictive ego, armed instead with an ego directed, we shall be able to brush aside petty and grand difference to united task – space, elevation, the stars. The science and social understanding required to attain the human imperative are literally astronomical in proportion, so being weak man we quit at the scale, or give up before we truly even start. We cannot depend on an enlightened other to save us when we will not get up ourselves to try, there is no salvation in the past to absolve our relinquishing the bridle, no soaring by together with the sun round and round pretending that neither of we two shall die.
We must get on with the hard work of fully comprehending the complete magnitude and scope of an individual and their relationship with a society that must together hardship and slowly die while always improving upon current realities for future lives. We must conquer all language barriers so nothing prevents the dialectic between tribes, we must comprehend fully the environment and its majestic reach so we can peaceably exist in harmony at her hearth, though understanding ourselves as guests, we must prepare for when we’re out.
We cannot die with this Earth, we cannot get defeated because of sins passed. We are not penitent sinners on hands and knees for mercy for ancestor’s guilt, we are star descendants trying to get off this damned rock. We seek no external absolution, for it can come only from the self, in true knowledge that we do all we can in aims of this great task. With zealot’s fervor, but forever open mind, we must strive to unlock the universe and slip from these mortal planes that bind. I must live up to my promise, prepare for the light, seek out the unknown, and set it in sight.
So many distractions, such entertainment to pull me away, set me down, calm me off, re-engage me. Limitless possibilities to help me relinquish control, relax, indulge in comfort undeserved. Upon whose back is this comfort carried? What justice is birthright in determining our due task? While one alone upon our home suffers the injustice of its kin, we all together know that lonely one could be me, you, anyone, any self. In the round and round, today’s up becomes down, no force exists that can ever deny it. We can try, we can stomp, we can believe we can stop, but it never stops, just goes round and round.
“If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness.”
Oh yes, oh yes, how great indeed, how great, how great in deed.
I cannot stop thinking-cannot get out my head-about the black hole at the center of it all. The blackhole at the center of all the brightest lights, and our spinning upon a rock round and round.
Spinning,
spinning,
upon a rock
round and round.
That black hole, oh man, don’t you want it?
Don’t you want nothing more than to jump in?