sinister
my guilt won't purify me
- Nov 5, 2023
- 3
The question lingers, like a forgotten whisper, slipping through the cracks of existence. Life, so fragile, so fleeting, clings to an illusion of purpose. Yet, no matter how tightly it grasps, the inevitable truth remains, death awaits, an uninvited guest at the table of life.
They speak of meaning, of finding purpose in the chaos, but what is the value of any endeavour when its end is already written in the stars? They strive, they fight, they build, yet each breath is simply a countdown to the inevitable collapse. They wear their fleeting moments as badges of honour, but what are they really? Masks worn over the hollow space where meaning once resided.
We live in a constant state of denial, weaving stories and justifications to cloak the darkness that looms behind the curtain. Life is but a dance, a fleeting, desperate attempt to convince ourselves that our steps matter. Yet, in the end, all our movements lead us to the same place, nothingness. What is the value of life when death is the only certainty? Perhaps it lies in the illusion itself, the belief that the dance is meaningful, that the music will last, even when we know it will stop.
To deny the truth of death is to deny the very essence of existence. It is the knowledge of the inevitable that shapes our every action, our every thought, our every breath. Without death, life is but a shadow, aimlessly wandering through the abyss. It is death that gives life its value, that forces us to confront our own fragility. Without it, we would simply exist, drifting through an endless, purposeless sea.
So, what is the value of life when death is the only certainty? Perhaps it is not in the length of the journey, but in the way we choose to walk the path, knowing it will end. The value lies not in escaping death, but in accepting it as the silent companion, always present, always waiting. And in that acceptance, perhaps we find the only true meaning, the courage to face the inevitable with open eyes, unafraid of the end.
Life, after all, is only as valuable as the shadow it casts. And without the shadow of death, there would be no light to see.
They speak of meaning, of finding purpose in the chaos, but what is the value of any endeavour when its end is already written in the stars? They strive, they fight, they build, yet each breath is simply a countdown to the inevitable collapse. They wear their fleeting moments as badges of honour, but what are they really? Masks worn over the hollow space where meaning once resided.
We live in a constant state of denial, weaving stories and justifications to cloak the darkness that looms behind the curtain. Life is but a dance, a fleeting, desperate attempt to convince ourselves that our steps matter. Yet, in the end, all our movements lead us to the same place, nothingness. What is the value of life when death is the only certainty? Perhaps it lies in the illusion itself, the belief that the dance is meaningful, that the music will last, even when we know it will stop.
To deny the truth of death is to deny the very essence of existence. It is the knowledge of the inevitable that shapes our every action, our every thought, our every breath. Without death, life is but a shadow, aimlessly wandering through the abyss. It is death that gives life its value, that forces us to confront our own fragility. Without it, we would simply exist, drifting through an endless, purposeless sea.
So, what is the value of life when death is the only certainty? Perhaps it is not in the length of the journey, but in the way we choose to walk the path, knowing it will end. The value lies not in escaping death, but in accepting it as the silent companion, always present, always waiting. And in that acceptance, perhaps we find the only true meaning, the courage to face the inevitable with open eyes, unafraid of the end.
Life, after all, is only as valuable as the shadow it casts. And without the shadow of death, there would be no light to see.