dah writes

The Majestic Enigma

By way of memory the past becomes now. Old feelings rise
and become new. I see before me a clear Eternity in which
an endless existence is a phenomenon creating a desire to
outlive ourselves. I doubt this imperfect life is worth all of
this effort.

Life’s ongoing nerve is a contagion of emotions piled up in
light and dark, and we keep reaching for light because of a
darkness phobia instilled in our minds before the age of
reason. The stifling dust of dogma is dense fallout darkening
the freedom of curiosity, of our will to be ourselves. Living
by the commands of others is the same as being buried alive,
it’s the corrupt bowels of suppression.

Space is the essence of Eternity. There is nothing bigger or
more lasting than this Majestic Enigma. It is the beginning
and the end, the order and the chaos, light and dark. Space,
with its creations and destructions, is our inheritance. Without
being a demanding deity it has impetus and diversity, birth,
death, joy, sorrow, pain and pleasure.

This Majestic Enigma’s invisible force sustains all of this
phenomenon without the need for humanity’s interference,
without dictating to be glorified or worshiped. There is only
one slipstream, one principle, and that is the way of Space.
Devotion to the directive of others is unnecessary to fulfill
the natural process of life and death. 

Most of humanity differs in thoughts and living but in death
we are the same. This is neither here nor there, it simply is
the way, which is also our inheritance. We must live life, not
by sanctified fables or by authorized versions of an afterlife, but
by living in the present, which creates little time for anxiety over
what death is or isn’t, or who is or isn’t going to make the grade
for entry into a scripturally fabricated heaven. 

We, all of us, are physical manifestations of the Majestic Enigma,
the energy of good and bad, and for no purpose other than this is
the way of Space. We must embrace this inheritance by embracing
death as much as we embrace life, for one without the other would
be an incomplete concoction of our spiritual elixir.  

 Dance of Death -- Vincent of Kastav