On your own

Sovereign emptiness glides into place, dragging the soul into dread darkness as the universe’s dismal fate slithers into each crevasse of the mind with the promise of perpetually lingering eternity. Yet, to avoid entry into this glorious wasteland is to ignore life’s gift with the pretention of knowledge and the posturing of ego. It is to beg at the altar of materialism for scraps of human tribute.

Humans demand oversimplification with the audacity of a school yard bully, zealously struggling to elude suffering. Perhaps this is our normal state, nature’s gift of consciousness in constant battle with infinity’s loneliness.

Descent to the stark undertones of despair is inevitable, but to allow gravity’s sling shot to arch the soul back to the light’s true course, and then to the dark pit once again, hints at a final frontier present from the beginning.

The comforting brightness illuminates in deceptive shades of neon, while frightening oblivion lays claim to veracity’s hand. Traveling in both is inevitable, and the light always fades; get used to it, you’re on your own.

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