Written by Zach Nerpel
nerpellivesinfargo.wordpress.com
The light at the end has been breached; its promise blinding.
By the end of the journey, purpose was long unremembered and known only as motion. Sprints turned to jogs, jogs to paces, paces to steps, and steps to crawls. Regression in progression.
So we claw back to start, to the darkness at the beginning of the tunnel.
Crawls turn to steps, steps to paces, paces to jogs, and jogs to a final sprint.
Back into darkness.
Progression in regression.
And then we initiate the cycle again. And again. And again, and again until it’s natural. Like scratching your ass alone, the gross habit becomes automatic. Animal.
How long before we collectively understand there is no end game? No amount of laps that will overcome the limitations of our human faculties? That we absolutely *cannot* comprehend much at all, especially ourselves?
The world has always been burning. Apocalypse has always been now. We’ve always been doomed.
And we all fucking die.
You, me, us, bears, grasshoppers, shrimps, sharks, crows, giraffes, octopuses (yes, that is the proper pluralization), horses, and the Sun itself. Even diamonds are not forever… not as far as we can understand. So numb your notions, because there are none of value.
Life is as beautiful as it is disgusting and we create our own meaning and bla bla bla.
Nothing is serious, the epitome is
RRCC 