Neptune's Dimentia

In a vision, an Oracle spoke to me: "The world is a Cold heartless place. A distorted, barren land. We suffer, we're human. Cast here to forget, Only to remember slowly, We're worms squirming in the mud... Maggots on an apple. Groping human animals trying to make sense with Our meager, feeble minds, as if we were drugged, or numb, or asleep. Or scarred by some strange curse of fate that happened in a pre-diluvian age. And yet there's something unspeakably beautiful about it all... the coping we share in our brief lives. We're fragile. We're going to die. Look at me. The mark of generations. My seams could stand a little mending as I am held together by a few fine strands of thread. Down, down, down through the ages have I spiralled and spun like a falling leaf in a bottomless chasm. Now, I am most ancient. Within me dance ten thousand voices and faces. Hear the cacophany! See your death, see my death. See that there is no before or after. Just one long enduring moment glimpsed in some rare sacred scene. Our lives are but a moment, aren't they? "To grow old is somehow to reconcile the past... to become unshielded from the elements. I have found myself, seen myself scattered amid the oldest of ruins to the brightest of stars. And so it is with an old star, like myself, for are we not all old stars? We are only what we wish to be given to see ourselves much as our parents saw themselves as they gazed upon us. "To see the vastness of the heart one must have travelled a dream and endured great sorrows. For some, death can be a comfort for death is a marriage with the earth. When living overwhelms them when the sky has grown too bright...the day too long...a the music of the spheres fade... then do they grow pale and weak to see rest and shelter in the moist bosom of the earth--in that deep, lazy slumber of death. He who would seek History's return is a man yearning for return to the soil. Are we no wiser than some lonely traveller begging for slumber? "I am only a glimpse as I hide in the world, denied, denied do I suffer in all my greatness. I have endured much suffering, the pains of birth, savored countless delights. I have feasted with kings and paupers alike. I have seen many winters, many shores. I have battled boldly against the raging seas of bitter strife and turmoil that plague and tear at the fabric of men. Men must abide by the graces of their glorious indulgence... and live by the whims of the time. I am just a weathered rock that has seen the turning tide...just another idiot gazing harmlessly out to sea to behold many faces. "Life goes on its way my son, As we stumble through tripping over our feet and into our graves. One man is all I care for... One man is all men." --Uncle GregAn Existential monologue originally from a dramatic play I wrote as a freshman in college for Intro to Playwriting. Written October 23rd, 2003 © on Oct 23 2001 11:23 AM PST    0 • 12