…Take a look to the sky just before you die.
It's the last time you will.
For whom the bell tolls…
Life.
Death.
The two words symbolize the only inevitabilities in the world. We are born and start to live, but at the same time start on our road to death.
When we die, we cease to live, and death begins…
…but as the bullet whistled into the thoughts of Bob, he knew life was over… at least for now anyway.
Rather animatedly, the motionless body lay in a pool of brain matter with ideas all over the walls. Light shines immaculately as he lies face down on the cold granite steps. The wind whistles as it scurries through the gaping hole left in his cranium. Then SILENCE…
It was deafening.
Death.
Vulgar, dark and vague yet mystical; mind-provoking. It brings the living to honour the dead, in a false platitude of emotion, exasperated in a bid to cleanse ones own soul of any responsibility.
The brick wall of a speeding car, the ground viewed at terminal velocity, the sweet song of depleted uranium shells, the harsh whisper of shrapnel, that funny feeling as your blood flow reverses.
Death is the end;
the beginning…
Individuality, the ability to distinguish oneself from the status quo, the masses. This word conjures the vision of one. But what of the voices, the hushes within each person, our personas. What if we unlocked a way to unleash these voices, to take upon shape, a physical entity, our own thoughts, our emotions, a piece of ourselves.
What would we do if our hatred was suddenly unleashed, our suppressed emotions those which we keep to ourselves would take upon their own dangerous machination. These voices, these personas, do we control them? Or are they a product of what makes us? Are those madmen within society merely responding to an overwhelming voice of insanity?
What pushes people to suppress and unleash these beasts? Society? Who defines those who are mad? Those who break convention, who are ridiculed for their break from the status quo. What if these people have merely been awakened, and we the blind? If their truth is reality, and because of our fear of the new, we dismiss their words as nothing more than ‘mad talk.’
Are we the ones blind to the truth?
And what if we realise that those ‘mad’ people are in fact right. Do we drop our lives and start fresh? Can a human live after being told everything they know, everything regarding life, religion, belief, knowledge, was ultimately a lie? Is religion merely a tool, a scapegoat with which we place a ‘meaning’ over our lives? This purpose, this search for a meaning, will we one day discover that it was all for nothing, that there was no significance or importance to our lives, that we were just…created.
Humans have seen a lack of humanity in recent times, and the questions after both World Wars and the present state of uncertainty and chaos erupting all around the world has created this new air of self reflective questioning, to question the lowest common denominator in the world, the individual; I.
The greyest of blue skies became the setting for the sombre gathering. The procession ever so reverent in their strides, set upon the newly upturned earth, like a colony of ants as they broke through the impenetrable surface, the silence became their instrument in this choir of those present. At its centrality was the unmoving figure of the dead. The spark of life had been ended just as quickly as it had come into fruition, like a cascading torrent upon the inescapable thrust towards death.
Quiet and unspoken, there was a constant, one being, on inanimate being which had foresaw the very life of the deceased. ‘Twas the rock. The rock which had remained without emotion, without a vision, without a life of its own.
Noone ever suspects the rock. Inert and still, it sits perched at the crossroads of life, viewing what must be seen and what should not.
Noone questions the rock, for emotion doesn’t stem from such lifeless and insignificant things.
Noone looks at the rock. It is but a mirage on the flashing background known as life. To take time to look would be to waste time trying.
A foreshadowing and diminished view of humanity do I possess. A rock. Nobody and everybody; your reflection and your reality, what you wish to remember and what you don’t. A veil for the covers which shield your eyes, I possess the power to tell the truth, without your emotion. No identity, but yours.
I; and YOU.
One who exists to mirror others, lacking identity, an incognito vessel.
The rock appears and disappears into thought. An unknown witness, an ever watchful eye; inanimate as it is.
Still.
Simple.
Incognito.
Inanimate.
Anonymous yet possessing the memories and thoughts of individuals. Whose identity is of anonymity. Like the memories, thoughts of the rock dwindle within the whistles of the wind.
Waiting.
Watching.
Listening.
Living…..
My being questionable, my existence but a passing in the facades of life.
Born to mirror those who stand before me, am I them, or I? Am I purer than the reality, not tainted but emotion, greed, ambition, or a fake which mimics, nothing more nothing less. One who cannot invent or become spontaneous, one who is a shadow, a reflection, an illusion. A perversion of nature, is there a place for such an existence?
The death of that who I reflected, that who created my very existence, is my very doom.
A double edged sword, the creator; the destroyer. The power of creation, the power of destruction.
I will disappear back into the hush silences of the wind, the gushing trickle of rain.
But my legacy I will leave; whether it be mine or not, it is my life.
A life which has known pain, suffering, sacrifice, happiness, bliss, and wealth. The story of one who had it all and had none at the same time. The story of that of who I was but a shadow, a forgotten thought, a lonesome eye which was forever fixated upon him. A life which brought us to the end, both for me and for him. A life which will be marked by the words and memories recalled by others, not by the actual events themselves, a distorted remembrance which too, will disintegrate with the passing of time.
My (nay, His) story.
The silence once again emanated through the harsh air of the procession. A blank figure emerged from the splash of blackness swarming the ceremonious ritual which was taking place. The figure cast himself as nothing, no identity, no name, no face, no features, one who had felt the ruthless life of anonymity.
What is it to be human?
The anonymous figure asked, almost challengingly as he gazed upon the slowly descending coffin.
What is it to be human?
To feel? To experience? To Live? To die? To exist? To create? To destroy? To be…
I long for such a thing…
You long for suffering, hurt, anger, disaster?
I long to be
You are a fool
Why?
You wish to be human, to be susceptible to everything, to be in danger of death with every breath, to be cast aside as useless and forgotten.
To be human is to experience love, happiness, to grasp something and appreciate its beauty, to learn about life, to have control of life, to live..
To live…what is the point, we spend every waking moment questioning ourselves to our death and find no answer, only through our own death can we attain this answer, what use is that to us then…a purpose instead of a mere existence, that is what you long for? I wish for this question, this burden to be taken away from me. I asked for none of it.
“Learn from me . . . how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge, and how much happier that man is who believes his native town to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature will allow.”
To live in such ignorance, to not know of the wonders which make life desirable, you wish to forsake them? What of the arts, higher culture, to experience love, hate, just to awaken with the thoughts of a new dawn on the mind…
You are living in a fool’s paradise…
Isn’t it better to live in a fool’s paradise rather than be a fool in paradise ?
You call this place paradise. Bah. To be forever judged, to be burdened with expectations. THIS is your paradise? HERE is YOUR paradise!!!
The swirling darkness encompassed the pair, soon there was nothing more than a spinning mass of coruscating mist. Suddenly the darkness dissipated into a mountainous expanse, a cover of mist, fog, and the unescapable stench of burnt flesh. The scene of savagery incarnated, yet humanity was responsible. A hush feel upon the two, something descended into the complex, a train slowly came to a halt. The rusted, ravaged carriages hid their precious cargo, the rush of activity had plunged into the complex and had now awakened the stirring hive of black uniforms which seemed to spout from the central warehouse.
The first carriage had been displaced of its occupants and the swarm of black quickly set about sorting those who would ultimately take their last steps in this god forsaken temple of sacrifice. Like a colony of worker ants, the soldiers methodically separated the parties into two distinct groups; death had been assured to them, only the method had to be decided. Families split apart, mother, daughter, father, son, those who resisted were brought forward, isolated; for it seemed this isolated hell was not enough.
Screams. The final attempts at reason, pleads for humanity to return to those empty, vacant eyes which now peered into theirs.
The sweet caress of death had embraced the family, the shrieks reverberated around the walls. A hush fell. “Feuer!” The screams from the Mauser Karbiner 98kgreeted the choir of death as the family fell.
This is humanity.
No this is rationalism.
THIS IS YOUR BELOVED.
No….this is….death.
Death. You say it like an unrequited love. It is harsh reality, it is imminent, it is our end.
Death is not the end. Death is….
Life. The circular wheel of fate spins its ironic web…it is this symbiotic relationship which I wish to forego.
A ray of sunlight, a waffling mist, the sounds of the train stopping. Shouts could be heard behind the wooden safeguards of the doors. The door opened.
War. Disease. They are all the same, they bring death, they bring about a cull for humanity to progress.
Imagine the growing regrets, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate...
Your beloved humanity, watch as it crumbles under the power and words of but one man….
The group were ordered out of the train. A hush quickly fell, a finely groomed young man strode forwards and gestured for the crowd to move. Left. Right.
Where is your humanity now? It has abandoned you…Humanity...there is no such true expression…this is the harsh reality of life…
Ushered into the red building the column of shivering bodies descended into a small metal platform. There was a hiss. The sweet aroma of gas filled the lungs of all in the room. A desperate last gasp followed by a thud. The last body fell, the final notion of life quashed.
Like a fire scorches the tree, thus new life is born and that is also true within humans. What doesn’t destroy us only makes us stronger.
Bah you fool! What doesn’t destroy you only seeks to complete what it started!
You look upon the world in such a dim view.
And you look upon the world blindly! You do not see past your fabled dreams of humanity. Open your eyes and view the world as it truly is, a machination of chaos!
How would you save the trapped butterfly stuck on the spider’s web ? Would you sacrifice the whatever the minority for the survival of the majority ? or would you crush the spider to save another?
I…
Do not have the power to decide who lives or dies…I would save both…
You would not sacrifice a few for the benefit of the rest ?
Your mind has truly been tainted…
No I have seen the light, I have experienced…
Then why must you stop my attempts at achieving what you had ?
The world had suddenly become a claustrophobic nightmare, trapped by three walls which emanated the same unsympathetic aura as this newfound dimension, the pair proceeded in silence…both knowing full well what was ahead. This journey was both theirs, not merely being of one body but also as they were linked within the threads of fate.
One stood with an encompassing aura of want, a thrusting hunger for humanity left within the hollow bastion of his unanimity. The other a dejected shadow of the past, humanity within this creature had been all butsuppressed, nay, wiped out.
The fusion of the two into one, the apparition of impossibility broken into the scattered dust of the world, time again stood still, for the two became intertwined, linked inevitably to each other, like a symbiotic relationship between life and death…
In this space, which suddenly struck them, where were they? The convulsive thoughts bounced off the various walls, down into the corridor, lit with an evanescent light, enough to shed a shadow on the figure ahead. What was it? Who was it?
The questions continued to stream forth like a river rushing towards the mouth of the waterfall.
My identity is insignificant, I am but a ‘god’ within your understanding, a being divorced from your own spheres, from your understanding and plane. I have listened to this ‘discussion’ and have found the need to intervene.
As the ‘god’ moved into the light, his face became illuminated revealing the essence of what had been stated. He proceeded towards them.The two beings stood face to face with each other, a perfect mirror, a reversal…
You are a mere machination of the mind, one who longs for life, the rock. The third, the anonymous figure of respite, death is your saviour.
Stunned the pair looked with amazement at this figure which now stood before them, thoughts, questions, the coherence to construct any form of argument had fled from their disturbed minds.
In the depths of history’s pages lay my identity, a canvas for which I was crafted, I too possessed mortality, a sense of humanity, the right to be, to live, to know. That humanity also incorporated the right to question, to question the very thing which I was, my very existence. This question I posed myself, for I had not the right to pose to another, I was merely…human.
You were once human?
Yes, is that so hard to comprehend, your gods are three persons in one, gods of every aspect of life, gods of your existence. They give you a meaning, a purpose to exist. The only difference between me and yourgods is that I do not serve anyone’s purpose or will; I AM the product of my own existence.
As the last deafening thunder escaped from his torrent of reasoning, the hall had slowly become a battleground. The sand underfoot had been stained red from the current of blood, the air thick with barrel fire and scorched flesh, the sun was but a slave to the dark swarm of smoke and planes which plagued the playground of the gods.
This is the scene of history, the moment of my enlightenment, the very essence of my own immortality. This was when I lost my humanity…
Time stood still. The air was still thick with the stench of blood and shrapnel, the ocean blue that had greeted them was replaced by the incandescent red of blood, biblical in terms the bodies were stacked along the ridges. The mortar shells could still be heard in the distance, the B-42’s but a leaf in the breeze as the platoon moved forward towards the trenches. The flash of red everywhere they looked, the flash of a different kind met them as they reached the shingle though, it was the barking madness of the MG-42’s raining a hell of metal and death upon them, the bullets didn’t cease, but neither did the walking carcasses that ran towards their doom, facing death with a gun and the words of a man sitting 200 kilometres away. This was what it was to be a soldier, to be a canvas of death, to kill or be killed.
The visions escalated deep within the troubled mind of the dead. Even in death he could not escape the thoughts and apparitions which had become the bane of his existence, that extra push off the cliff, it was the overwhelming reason for his demise. He had bared his fangs, bared them like he was an animal, yet he knew better, he had been a learned professor, and upstanding citizen, a perfect conformist. This conformity had become his tool as he battled through the Western front, the unenvious position of spearhead, as the two sides met upon the sands of the quite French coast, whereupon the graves of those who would fall had already been marked out, they had become assimilated into the dust, "till thou return into the ground, for thou out of the ground wast taken: know thy birth, for dust thou art, and shalt to dust return."