A Sacred Pact

How're you gonna push that rock up the hill without making any progress? What're you gonna do when your best efforts fail? When the world crumbles down, and you're left all alone, what sense is there to make of it? Horrible things happen every day for no rhyme or reason. Dreams fail. People die. Countless beings suffer fates far worse than death. What is there to feel thankful about in those deep, dark, and murky moments? Those ugly moments covered in mud that reek of something rotten. How does it feel when you spend your entire life struggling against the void, only to watch yourself waste away? What's there to be said about any of it? What's there to be deciphered or understood? 

Write and make sense of everything as much as you'd like. Laugh loudly and indulge in the greatest of comforts. Create new art, express yourself, and spread the love. Or dread the inevitable and drag down a dozen or two with you on your way to hell. No matter what you do, all of us will end up in the same ground. All of us came from the same earth, and back to it we shall return. If nothing else, there is some comfort in that truth. You can fake a rich life and hide your bulging stretch marks, or you can flaunt your scars for the world to see. Either way, once you've seen the worst of the worst, there's not much left to feel. 

Once you've hit the lowest of lows, there's hardly a place to go but up. Except for the hope that there's something even lower. For what's the point of living when things are boring and predictable? That's what life is really about. You cry your heart out and writhe in pain. You feel enraged as if set ablaze by lighting and roused by thunder. Then there's the calm, and the few joys here and there. The shiny glimmers of connections that bless the landscape like a sky full of stars or lighthouses in the abyss. Scattered sporadically here and there in the vast expanse of dreadful horrors. So let there be suffering. Let there be rape.

Let the loving couple get tragically ravaged and let the devils partake in their flesh. The circus of horrors is boundless in that way. Each day, worse than the last. As boredom and innui become the norm for the masses, who then corrode the lands in hope of catching up to lost recreation. Gaia herself seems to choke and ache from this insignificant infestation that burns across her face and more, faster than it can even handle. The moon and the stars go on just the same. A child cries, a woman laughs. A man screams, as the hours pass. 

That innocent child, with eyes so bright, seems more beautiful by the day. Yet bitter-sweet at the same. Enough to make one cry, for laughter lost, and hope that died. It's easy to let it weigh you down as you go on. It's easy to forget up from down. But if you can afford it, get a moment of silence in this maddening chase. Sit by yourself and feel the wind on your face. It seems cliche to take a breath. Like a grimy hippie that lives so high. But if you can appreciate it, then take notice. One can only really do one thing at a time. We're all suffering in divine glory. A sacred pact, so vile, so gorey. But if you can, just leave some space. Let others be, and be yourself.

To be or not be, is hardly a question. To be there for someone, is how we all blossom. But everyone lives just for their sake. All of us, selfishly depraved. What hope is there for sainthood then? Why even bother with right and wrong? The joy of life is not in flavors. To feel the spice-burns soothe with maple. After all, you don't just peddle to end up at the same place. The best of all things is to be in motion, and doing it all while striking that balance. And falling down right on your face, but getting back up, cuz you love the taste. The taste of the breeze, the wind on your face. What need is there, then, to complicate?

Try, try, try some more. And if you never succeed, no mind, no matter. Win or lose, live or die, this eternal dance will pass us by. So sit and wait for it all to be over, plunge in head first, or let it be over. No matter your curse, your gift, or mission, it'll all fade out, no reservations. So give it your all and aim for glory, or settle down and be more boring. When push comes to shove, and all's said and done, let the records indicate, that it was all for fun!