End of the Road

Time and darkness, the greatest equalizers. One takes everything to the same form, while the other makes form irrelevant.

Lost are we the children of electricity. We go to sleep in our impure darknesses clothed in flickering electronic lights, our silent digital sentinels watching through the fake night. For this is not the pure night our fathers came home to over geological ages, this is not the pure ancient darkness of the universe they learned to hold close as they slept.

And learn the lessons from this we shall. For this only means that the final equalization into formless darkness and endless time shall be abrupt, unfamiliar, uncaring, for the universe slows down for nobody. And no mercy or patience shall be shown to excuse our brick, iron and electronic hideaways where we fled life all our lives.

That is what is waiting at the end of the road. All our roads end at that one point. Formless darkness. Endless time.

And all your lights and firework and expensive digital sentinels are but a successful commercial distraction while you wait. Congratulations, you’re alive.

Astro Boy

Tell me, astro boy

What does it feel like to have no friends

To sit alone like this

Under your great starry sky

Before your glowing door


Tell me while I am here

Everything around, it’s lit by starlight now, beautiful

And sad beyond words, there’s death in this light

A clinging on through aeons, a breathing one’s last

Only drawn out through years of lonely time


Astro boy, how do you wait

and what have you to wait for?

Tell me, so I may sit and wait with you.

I am tired by all that I waited for

never having waited for me.


There is an empty solace in your galaxies

There is a bare truth.

If only I could lay my mind to sleep

And sit with you on your starlit ground

And watch your stars as ages float by.


But astro boy, I need to go

Into the light through your glowing door

Where there is no silence, darkness or respite

Only a waiting on all that won’t wait for you

I’ll be back, and we’ll sit and dream.


Wait for me.

It’s Almost Dawn

Late, late at night, you can hear the city breathing in and out. All its dreams and darknesses pulsing back and forth, pushing softly against your thoughts, trying to nestle into a corner of your mind.

Even later, in the transition between very late and very early, you can smell the futility and madness of civilization and humanity drifting in from the north. It blows over the city and drowns itself in the bay. Before sunrise, the last traces are extinct. Nobody gets the stench in the morning, and that’s how we can all keep going.

This, kids, is what happens to people who don’t sleep.


Now I know how valuable is darkness. If there’s one thing that civilization has lost and should mourn, it is darkness. It lets the mind gather its thoughts and maybe think about a few things that it doesn’t normally do.

I am attempting something I have given up for quite some time. How easy it is to loose the correct mood for writing. I would like to say that what I have given up is writing, but it’s bigger and more difficult than that. What I have given up is a self. That self used to keep producing the writing. It used to make me feel. I don’t get that emotional urge any more these days. Practice could get a habit like writing back. But could it bring back a self?

There, we have lost the darkness again. I know light is convenient and necessary, but is also obscene in some way, especially after you have been in the dark for some time. The darkness does not disturb. It lets you collect yourself. It is so polite. The light is loud. It crashes into the setting and stays, moulding the environment in its own way, the way it was set up by the electricians.

The place I live in is really loud, and full of other people invading into all six of your senses. I wish I could have a full string of wild mountains all around me, and loads and loads of darkness. I have no idea what I’m going to do with that, but I guess it would get me somewhere.

Feynman once said of learning that it’s like the motion of clouds in the sky. If you keep watching it, it doesn’t seem to move. But you suddenly realize it has progressed since a certain time ago. This is true of all change, including the change of a self and its connections. My friends are changing. My relationship with them is changing. My life is changing. My wants are changing. My happiness and sadness are changing, and my secret despairs are changing. And there’s usually too much light and noise here to feel and analyse all that. I think I need a bit of silence and darkness. For example, I can feel a little of that self now. It’s afraid of the light. I know that if I switch on the light now, it will just leave. So maybe if I have enough silence and darkness, I will be able to harvest that self again. It is important that I do so, because there was something of key importance in that self I don’t want to see off.


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