Happy Increment Day ...
Here it is again, faster this time around than last, next year will probably come even sooner. I just got accustomed to answering 25 when asked my age. Now I'll have to get used to 26. The depressing thing about birthdays is realizing that one day you won't have to keep adding a digit to that number. When will that be for me? 112? 74? 59? 26???
If it was up to me I'd choose ∞, the fractalized chaos, the end of the mobius strip. Unfortunately, my life line doesn't circle my thumb and run back into itself. Luckily, death is loosing it's terror. I don't know if I'm growing desensitized to the fear or if I'm becoming assured of the immortality of the spirit.
Being quite aware that my consciousness is the confinement of relayed observation, I often convince myself that death will be the ultimate release of tension. Consciousness is tension, an enormous knot that will one day work itself out. Why then do I want to witness the end of infinity?
Maybe I don't believe, maybe I'm scared of the post release, maybe I'm afraid to lose me. I'll admit that I have a major problem with belief. Everything is fallible, experience is subjective and I am the product of decaying ideas and unproveable realities.
When I look below I see a rotting trunk and a rising tide. One day the waves will take down my tree and I will be left clinging to the branches as they roll with the surf. Ants march mindlessly along the limbs. Nimble and acrobatic squirrels leap from bough to bough. The birds, perched and ready for flight. I should figure what I'll be, just in case I'm given the choice.
If it was up to me I'd choose ∞, the fractalized chaos, the end of the mobius strip. Unfortunately, my life line doesn't circle my thumb and run back into itself. Luckily, death is loosing it's terror. I don't know if I'm growing desensitized to the fear or if I'm becoming assured of the immortality of the spirit.
Being quite aware that my consciousness is the confinement of relayed observation, I often convince myself that death will be the ultimate release of tension. Consciousness is tension, an enormous knot that will one day work itself out. Why then do I want to witness the end of infinity?
Maybe I don't believe, maybe I'm scared of the post release, maybe I'm afraid to lose me. I'll admit that I have a major problem with belief. Everything is fallible, experience is subjective and I am the product of decaying ideas and unproveable realities.
When I look below I see a rotting trunk and a rising tide. One day the waves will take down my tree and I will be left clinging to the branches as they roll with the surf. Ants march mindlessly along the limbs. Nimble and acrobatic squirrels leap from bough to bough. The birds, perched and ready for flight. I should figure what I'll be, just in case I'm given the choice.
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