The end? The beginning? The great drama, the great conflict. It is the culmination of our lives, it is the destination we have journeyed towards since birth, and we have no idea what it is.
Disaster, death, celebration. What drives us? what defines...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Before me through the falls of Death, to Dante's realm I've journeyed. Upon the Styx, half-clad and hungry, looking like a child, inner tube in hand, belying grave endeavors and hounded by the spirits of the dead.
So there I was, within the circles of the damned with moans and lamentations bouncing off its grief-soaked walls, seated in a sea of misery on a chair made from the bones of men who died loveless and forgotten, driven by a lust for lucre, giving nothing to the world.
As I stared across the circle, I saw the prophets and magicians slowly heading to my perch upon a hill of hearts.
They stopped, save one, an ancient figure clad in Grecian robes whose head was twisted backwards on those shoulders which had borne the weight of history.
Tiresias, I thought, the prophet of the gods, struck blind by knowledge of Athena's shame, now cursed to only see those things already past and drown in the despair of times he could not change.
He climbed my hill of hearts and paused, I could not see his face which rearward glanced, and spoke in tones of weary sorrow. "There is no future, no hope-filled world, no chance to better our course. There is only yesterday, etched in stone, immutable, inflexible, and firm. A world of lives with tragic ends, of sunsets without a single rising sun."
The Inferno then grew gray and somewhere dawn was born which nudged me slowly to depart, and I unwilling yet to leave turned to Tiresias and asked, "Of all the past that swims within your mind, what would you change if given such a chance?"
He turned his back to me, to stare me in the eye and spoke, a fragile smile upon his face, "To revoke all god-given gifts to me, to blind my eye to future and to past. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow not yet born. Observe this face of misery and learn to live and simply be."
And then at once my spirit-spun, my brain succumbed and clouded black, and I once more before the mighty falls of Death did stand. I turned my back. Now homeward bound, I looked around and shouted, "Soon enough! Soon enough, But not today!" And then with inner tube in hand, I spryly walked away.
