| Subject: . l i f e . |
Author:
Machete
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Date Posted: 11:50:48 07/25/03 Fri
He was in an oddly neutral mood--no one to spite and not overjoyed. His pace was comatose--long and lanky, loping with feline agility across the lands he hoped to revive. He slowed his pace, already seeping in unhurried celerity, and lowered a scrappy muzzle to the earth and began whuffing around lightly. He used threatning claws to uproot the solidly packed sod about him, letting the languid dust dissipate into the atmostphere as he studied it in slow progression. He was studying the lands, intaking every nascent pine, every earthy bramble, every shuttering twig. He wanted to familiarize the call of the crow, the sound of the wind screeching through the hollow trees, the rain beating upon famished bodies. He wanted to know it all, and embrace it. To love the lands almost as much as he loved himself.
Now, dont take his statement arrogantly. He did not hold his form in high reguard--he meerely appreciated his presence just as much as the average being. But he loathed the others more; which is why he felt his soul more prodominant, and only for one reason--they feared death. Well, he hated those that did. He did not know of any in these lands that did...but he'd find out. He thought it was a rather foolish ambition, to fear the inevitable. It cant be prevented, only embraced with fervor. Those using frugal tactics and screeching prayers in hopes of putting off that set date...it sickened him. Why fear death? If they all believe in God, if they believe in the glorious Heavens and a wonderful afterlife, then why would you fear something that great? Machete could tell you. Because there was no afterlife; was no heaven, was no angels and cheribs. You know it too, all of you. Deep in your soul there is a twang which is aware of the uncertainty beyond your soul. Life is like a yeast, one grain in many. It grows and develops and spreads, as you do. But eventually, it stops. It reaches the point where it can grow no more. There is no second chance, there is no allegorically profound afterlife. It STOPS. As life STOPS. We return to the blackness from which it sprung.
And again, his words cannot be misjudged. He does not value his life either--he and his brother had quarreled many a day over life's worth. But always Machete won the war. So many hold their life precious; thankfully Khastin was one of the few which did not place his upon a pedastal as so many others. Life is not precious, it is not a gift or sacred. Life is the one never ending, abundant thing upon this earth! It fights for existance, it can be seen everywhere struggling! Life will be the one thing which we will never become short of. Its only purpose is to develop..thats its purpose. And it will never get enough. Why, the only person that holds life as sacred as jewels is the life-holder themselves. We dont TRUELY care about the souls of others. And say they do die, slip into the oblivion beyond existance, they wont even know they have died...the only people which cared about their death wont even be aware it happened! And there will always be life to flourish in its place.
Always.
Machete thought it all rubbish--embrace every moment was his theory. So he puttered around, memorizing the life around him. You never know when it may dissapear.
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