The day will come even to you, oh persons of destiny. The day will come too, oh you vessels of fate. The slip, the slide, the glide of all this rubble and soul will take its toll. It turns out you only rent the flesh, the eternal was on loan, you did okay considering you’re just the aftermath of a bunch of dumb explosions. The earth and the atmosphere have dibs, plus a little sheen of dust given up to the vagaries of the vacuum, as a goes around comes around sort of gratuity. Stardust to space grime, given space and time. The wages of sin are pretty much the going rate for any trade, endeavor, or vocation. It doesn’t exactly take the sting from all the murder and destruction, but at least the destroyers and the murders all get Ozymandiased and door nail deaded too.
It isn’t a consolation, it’s a trick like cold reading or having interests. It can’t be fixed or helped, so many more gods never weaned or whelped. This flesh is all perils and pleasures, and this wind down, sudden or slow. The grade is gradual, the drop is deft, at once the was and the never more. Either we burn as we rise or catch fire as we fall, or plummet gloriously to the inevitable impact. We play telephone, try to pass the message on down the line, whispers to the ears from future selfs. We have our lore and our endless work arounds. Incense the same silk and thick perfume whatever deity it praises or cat box it smothers. Here we hold court and covet thrones, all pomp and power until the bones molder and snap, gone like that.
Too often the old bones thrown all in to cover some long shot. Too often the empty hand for the honor held, the cost known and hoped against. The missed medicines and the mercurial moods, the freshened fractures and the rot bound wounds, the well earned beatings and duties to strangers all abide the price of flesh. The wreck is burning down and the cold is stretched from heel to star, the evening out adding up. Each day a piece goes missing, repairs and replacements dwindle down, the halo or horns ever more thorny than crown. Whether words or wants or childhood haunts, there’s a bunch of one ways worked in towards the end. However hard it is, however unbearable it’s been, you’ve got a lot of losing left to do.