close

'I open at the close'

You have entered the real realm of temporality. It is the right defending with it's left. The consideration of what might be based upon what once was. It is a realm of motivation and planning, of excitement and nostalgia. But also the realm regret and fear. Of unknowable shadows that we do not understand.

All fear is rooted in the ultimate fear of our own impending death.

But what we fear is the fear of the imcomprehensible, The inability for us to imagine the total annhilation of our self for all eternity, the endless sleep amid an infinitely entropic universe.

The slow gradation of birth into a bicameral world of two tyrannies, that of space and time, is our collective original sin. To be cursed on one side to live in the world of continual pleasure, aware of the realm of the dolphin or skylark, but trapped in a framework of past and future, with the only certainty that time will at some point ensnare of very being and envelope us into it's nothingness.

We travel down this corridor of life, continually peering into the blackness, trying to make out the obscured shapes of fate that are coming to greet us.

The Black Corridor

The old man lay on his death bed

He did not feel frightened or upset to ultimately find himself here, in fact he felt a strang kind of relief. The necessary regret now was pouring into a great ocean and mingling and diluting amidst the collective memories of seven and a half thousand generations.

He was not meant to know the real reason his own personal piece of DNA had been so lovingly and carefully preserved within his now failing frame. He realised we are not meant to know everything, that compulsion for foreknowledge is the inclination of the frame, the by product of survival.

He turned to his loved ones that now surrounded his bed.

'if I don't get out of this bed I never will'

He found his dry lips muttering

'But you are not going to leave this bed are you?'

'No...I think I will sleep then'

And with that he closed his eyes.