episteme
But that ironed-scaled dragon-mountain eats its own tail; it
has always and will always devour itself. And so will we. So will we stretch our
pouting lips over our own heads and swallow. This is our process, our nature,
our destiny. Or at least we tell ourselves such a story. After all it seems right and it feels good. However, it’s not completely fulfilling: that great
mental massage. Though we are
placated from time to time, it never lasts and we are never truly satisfied, so
we must squeeze harder and rub faster in order to reach that seemingly
out-of-reach pinnacle, the spark’s origin, the scorched mountaintop. At least
we have the hymns of ancient lords to hum while we climb. At least we have the
ancient traditions to guide us through lightning’s splintered fingers. Thank
the heavens for discourse! And, if we do not like any of it we have new ones
too! Like technology and progress. We will find our way yet! But don’t we
already know what’s going to happen? About what you ask? We’ll just come back
to that original haunting question—you know—the one about meaning. After all,
the dragon does eat its own tail.
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ReplyDeleteGod damnit. Why did they link that to my non existent google plus account. Anyway. Cool blog, dude. I made blog. I like ouroboros.
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