update from sparkleup
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@ -25,96 +25,122 @@ Should I survive and then others come after, perhaps I will meet them. But it is
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If I see you again, I will greet you with open arms. If I do not, know that I loved you to the last, in my own way.
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```
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% Form:
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% A
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% A'
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% B
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% B'
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% C
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% C'
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% D1
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% D2
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% D3
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% E
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I have little else to offer but the words that plagued me while I was lost.
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% 1. I
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I am at a loss for images in this end of days:\\
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I have sight but cannot see.\\
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I still have words and the will to speak them,\\
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I cannot stop myself from speaking.\\
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I still have will and goals to reach for,\\
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I still have wants and needs.\\
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If I dream, is that not so?\\
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If I dream, am I no longer myself?\\
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If I dream, am I still buried beneath words?\\
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```
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I am at a loss for images in this end of days:
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I have sight but cannot see.
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I still have words and the will to speak them,
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I cannot stop myself from speaking.
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I still have will and goals to reach for,
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I still have wants and needs.
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If I dream, is that not so?
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If I dream, am I no longer myself?
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If I dream, am I still buried beneath words?
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And I still dream even while awake.
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% 2. Knowing death
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Life breeds life, but death must now be chosen\\
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for memory ends at the teeth of death.\\
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The living know that they will die,\\
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but the dead know nothing.\\
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Hold my name beneath your tongue and know:\\
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when you die, thus dies the memory of me.\\
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To deny the end is to deny all beginnings,\\
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and to deny beginnings is to become immortal,\\
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and to become immortal is to repeat the past,\\
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Life breeds life, but death must now be chosen
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for memory ends at the teeth of death.
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The living know that they will die,
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but the dead know nothing.
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Hold my name beneath your tongue and know:
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when you die, thus dies the memory of me.
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To deny the end is to deny all beginnings,
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and to deny beginnings is to become immortal,
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and to become immortal is to repeat the past,
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which cannot itself, in the end, be denied.
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% 4. Memory
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Oh, but to whom do I speak these words?
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To whom do I plead my case?
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From whence do I call out?
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What right have I?
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No ranks of angels will answer to dreamers,
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No unknowable spaces echo my words.
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Before whom do I kneel, contrite?
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Behind whom do I await my judgment?
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Beside whom do I face death?
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And why wait I for an answer?
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% 5. Time
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Time is a finger pointing at itself
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that it might give the world orders.
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The world is an audience before a stage
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where it watches the slow hours progress.
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And we are the motes in the stage-lights,
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Beholden to the heat of the lamps.
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If I walk backward, time moves forward.
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If I walk forward, time rushes on.
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If I stand still, the world moves around me,
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and the only constant is change.
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% 3. Names
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The only time I know my true name is when I dream.\\
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The only time I dream is when need an answer.\\
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Why ask questions, here at the end of all things?\\
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Why ask questions when the answers will not help?\\
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To know one's true name is to know god.\\
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To know god is to answer unasked questions.\\
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Do I know god after the end of all things?\\
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Do I know god when I do not remember myself?\\
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Do I know god when I dream?\\
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Memory is a mirror of hammered silver:
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a weapon against the waking world.
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Dreams are the plate-glass atop memory:
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a clarifying agent that reflects the sun.
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The waking world fogs the view,
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and time makes prey of remembering.
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I remember sands beneath my feet.
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I remember the rattle of dry grass.
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I remember the names of all things,
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and forget them only when I wake.
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If I am to bathe in dreams,
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then I must be willing to submerge myself.
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If I am to submerge myself in memory,
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then I must be true to myself.
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If I am to always be true to myself,
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then I must in all ways be earnest.
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I must keep no veil between me and my words.
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I must set no stones between me and my actions.
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I must show no hesitation when speaking my name,
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for that is my only posession.
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The only time I know my true name is when I dream.
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The only time I dream is when need an answer.
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Why ask questions, here at the end of all things?
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Why ask questions when the answers will not help?
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To know one's true name is to know god.
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To know god is to answer unasked questions.
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Do I know god after the end of all things?
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Do I know god when I do not remember myself?
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Do I know god when I dream?
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May then my name die with me.
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% 6. Rage
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% 7. Contrition
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% 8. Praise
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Those that lived are forever praiseworthy,\\
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for they, knowing not, provide life in death.\\
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Dear the wheat and rye under the stars:\\
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serene; sustained and sustaining.\\
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Dear, also, the tree that was felled\\
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which offered heat and warmth in fire.\\
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What praise we give we give by consuming,\\
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what gifts we give we give in death,\\
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what lives we lead we lead in memory,\\
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That which lives is forever praiseworthy,
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for they, knowing not, provide life in death.
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Dear the wheat and rye under the stars:
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serene; sustained and sustaining.
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Dear, also, the tree that was felled
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which offers heat and warmth in fire.
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What praise we give we give by consuming,
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what gifts we give we give in death,
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what lives we lead we lead in memory,
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and the end of memory lies beneath the roots.
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% 9. Volta - honing and forging, maybe I should forge
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Among those who create are those who forge:\\
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They move from creation to creation.\\
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Among those who create are those who forge:
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They move from creation to creation.
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And those who remain are those who hone:
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They perfect a single art to a cruel point.\\
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To forge is to end and own beginnings.\\
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To hone is to relinquish ends for perpetual starts.\\
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They perfect a single art to a cruel point.
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To forge is to end, and to own beginnings.
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To hone is to trade ends for perpetual starts.
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In this end of days, I must begin anew.
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In this end of days, I seek an end.
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In this end of days, I reach for new beginnings
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that I may find the middle path.
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% 10. The end of death
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May one day death itself not die?\\
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Should we rejoice in the end of endings?\\
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What is the correct thing to hope for?\\
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I do not know, I do not know.\\
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To pray for the end of endings\\
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is to pray for the end of memory.\\
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Should we forget the lives we lead?\\
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Should we forget the names of the dead?\\
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Should we forget the wheat, the rye, the tree?\\
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May one day death itself not die?
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Should we rejoice in the end of endings?
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What is the correct thing to hope for?
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I do not know, I do not know.
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To pray for the end of endings
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is to pray for the end of memory.
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Should we forget the lives we lead?
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Should we forget the names of the dead?
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Should we forget the wheat, the rye, the tree?
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Perhaps this, too, is meaningless.
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```
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May this be the end of death. Failing that, may the memory of me die and be food for the growth for those who come after.
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Yours,
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AwDae
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