Life is veritably—if one believes in myths as truth, as monuments—a candle slowly, painstakingly, unbeknownst and unheralded or conspicuous, burning.
Each of our predominately phallic wax statuses is ever-inching towards finality—we will come to the placeholder one day, dust, ash, wax, everything asunder.
The key is to recognize the inevitable iceberg. Once approached and landed upon, we will have two choices (minimally): to dive into the depths surrounding, searching for more. Or, stricken with fear, rendering self paralyzed.
The point herein is to take the former approach: to swim, dive deep and find the next treasures to go to new lands, new lives.
I don’t understand the inherited (and, really worse, embraced!) fear of the unknown. Our Western world, our ideologies, have us so distraught when it comes to that prospect. We should embrace the unknown time we have remaining as if we were terminal (insert sickness here) patients: enhance every second breathing, see every hue more vividly, every note absorbed deeper into the soul, allowing it to strike chords never touched, tasting every nectar as the most bitterly sweet substance in the world.
Live life not with a fear of death, but with acceptance of it—along with pain, it’s the only guarantee we have.