Where are we going?


Spring’s path leads down from the winter’s mountain. It’s life that flows towards its bloom, followed with rich anima - that which lives. They face first the joy, so that they may know of it. Change is autumn, the eventual aging of nature before its many forms of rebirth in the face of death. Cycle which in truth is a spiral leads the spirits onward, guided by their own light. Perfect circle does not exist - it is an illusion, an abstract that exists only inside our fabrications. We can not touch or coexist with it, yet we experience the abstract on a nearly daily basis, many of us so much so that we may get lost in that which truly does not even exist. The illusion becomes our reality, and sometimes our only escape from it is death. 

Death is a mystery we keep delving into, a self illuminating darkness that keeps us intrigued. We love death through its pain. It may appear as a morbid thought to say that death is all that is and matters beyond life, but then, what else would there be?

Yet, death is not a destination but a vessel which flings us onward.

Infinity does not exist. It is an illusion which we may get lost into, but is ultimately pointless.


The question is, does infinity have an end?

If not, we have a journey without a final destination.

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