4.10.04 | The Saturnyne Muses Upon Death
"What do they think about, in their beds beneath the ground?
What do the dead people think about?
"When the summer earth swelters, when roots press against their backs like creases in the bedsheets...
When sleep won't come, what notions do they entertain in those frail parchment bulbs that once were skulls?
The party continues overhead, with songs heard before and dances long since wearied of.
Slumbering below, is it a consolation that as with roots and trees, all things above are determined by what lies buried beneath?
Dreaming amongst the foundations of the world, are they content? Do the yellowing ribs still grate together in a nostalgic parody of breath?
"Do the dry sockets thirst for one final glimpse of sky?
Tongueless do they fondly repeat old dialogues, headstones tilting together to share a grievance?
Life In Death
"What do they talk about, in their beds beneath the ground? What do the dead people talk about...
...And which voices are the loudest?"
-From The Saga of the Swamp Thing #41,
by Alan Moore
Today, i have been spending the rainswept twilight hours stalking through graveyards and considering what it means to die and be dead...
Do we really have souls? Does a soul really weigh 21 grams? Where does it go? Which religion has the answer?- imean, they can't all be right, can they? I'd be more willing to bet that they can all be wrong, though.
And does that God guy really have much to say these days?
Does (S)He even exist?
Some people want to leave their mark forever, as if that's some way to immortality. Realistically speaking, i don't think that's gonna happen for anyone. The really really really lucky one's will get a few thousand years at most. Looking at history, i wonder if even your Mohammed, your Christ, your Moses etc. etc. will get that long... Nope, everything ends. And is forgotten. Accepting that, might enrich the lives of many...
Having thought on this at length (years. Of existential crisis), i have to say.
I don't fear the actual dying. I'm hoping that it'll be like waking up (grins).
I'm not so sure how i'll feel about the moments leading up to my demise though...
Will i be afraid? Sad? Happy? Joking through it all like an evil motherfucker? Perhaps a curious mixture of all three.
And the point to all this musing?
Well, Lady Death will come for us all one day, and she's a capricious thing. Any place. Any time, ya know...
If you have things unsaid or love not given. Make a point of saying. Of giving. Today. For tomorrow we die. Probably.
Hopefully just after tea (Harle Syke tea) and with a nice glass of something sweet and alcoholic in hand, and just after dessert, which will hopefully involve something chocolate. Actually, if we could leave it a few hours after tea, it'd be nice to be able to fit in a few rounds of mad pash lovemaking, too, and perhaps a couple of records, anna favourite movie...
Big love to ye all.