Carrion in my back pocket
I've been carrying this jocular idea around for days, weeks, years; that human existence is the equivalent of nothing circumstantial. That life as we know it is abysmal. To think that we shall one day grasp the sanity in reality. That days at work are paying of for the end result of splendor. Every awkward feeling of loyalty to the system will keep us snug and warm; blanketed from any threat.
Anything relevant would be a guess at what's actually true. Finding truth and becomeing the unknown and secret in one swift crescendo.
Orchestra peices have been a reaction to the supression of this truth in reality. The conductor produces a swift arch with his arms commanding his guild, and captivating those who will listen. They listen in order to fathom themselves; to feel a part of something real. The same can be said for many experiences.
All this leads to the nothingness we all loathe in the end. We experience things uncommon to the commoner that would probably be lost to the swirling vortex of a dying conciousness. So we record them in a feable attempt to annul that emptiness within our shattered lives.
We describe our dreams after awaking, but we can never seem to relay what we have experienced in the short vocabulary that we may use.
To say you exist, and live as one shall, is to exist; although, slavery to the mechanism of capital, and corporate greed, is to live as nothing.
I've been carrying this jocular idea around for days, weeks, years; that human existence is the equivalent of nothing circumstantial. That life as we know it is abysmal. To think that we shall one day grasp the sanity in reality. That days at work are paying of for the end result of splendor. Every awkward feeling of loyalty to the system will keep us snug and warm; blanketed from any threat.
Anything relevant would be a guess at what's actually true. Finding truth and becomeing the unknown and secret in one swift crescendo.
Orchestra peices have been a reaction to the supression of this truth in reality. The conductor produces a swift arch with his arms commanding his guild, and captivating those who will listen. They listen in order to fathom themselves; to feel a part of something real. The same can be said for many experiences.
All this leads to the nothingness we all loathe in the end. We experience things uncommon to the commoner that would probably be lost to the swirling vortex of a dying conciousness. So we record them in a feable attempt to annul that emptiness within our shattered lives.
We describe our dreams after awaking, but we can never seem to relay what we have experienced in the short vocabulary that we may use.
To say you exist, and live as one shall, is to exist; although, slavery to the mechanism of capital, and corporate greed, is to live as nothing.
jkricket:
Couldn't have said it better myself. It irks me that people are so terrified of the concept of mortality that they create escapist fantasies. They live focused on some sort of afterlife, or become obsessed with "creating a name for themselves". Your name disappears when you die. You're only a memory. Your god disappears when you die. He is just an idea. The brutal truth that we all must accept is that of our impermanence. Once we can grasp this, we can truly live for today and make the most of life.