Musings of a quantum module of perception embedded in the folds of an unfathomable cosmic superbeing.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
The end of the world
Perhaps the end of the world will never come, because to get to the end of the world we would have to keep going indefinitely around the world in every direction for ever and ever. And even then we would never arrive at the end. Unless we did. So either there is an end, or there isn't. And if there is no end, then there was never a beginning, so there can be no question of an end in any case. Neither is the world an end in itself, nor has it an end or purpose, except to grow creatures of light. So the unknowable recesses of being remain secret, and the agendas of beings beyond our ken remain inscrutable. And we are naked in our pure souls, when we walk vulnerable but unscathed to the mountain, ready to raise our glorious swords to the sun, and vanish in a puff of smoke.
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1 comment:
The poetry of the formless worshiping the form of futility.
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