Ravings of Our End

As my research continued, I lost my grip on reality, so excuse my breach of safety in the concerns of how you see myself. I will begin in the time of brief conscience against my even-now swift approaching end. Our constant flow towards an end written always.

I studied for longer than I can remember, or at the least fancied, light. Masses in a great empty space never once pricked my subconscious as a slight interest. Yet a wave moving through space for all eternity, constantly pressing forward, breaking barriers set by no man and always there, brushing my mortal face, was of the utmost importance to my ego. A faint memory of stars shown nightly, ghostly in the skies since before my learning of them or any man’s first studies. For without light, how could we see anything past what we have always known and always will know, darkness. We know of a world illuminated, so why study the known, and not of the unknown? Light has always known, and has known far longer than we, than I, have of an ultimate end. Constantly I have been moving towards this fact unknowingly, yet light has known since the beginning. I held myself at a higher place than my peers, because I, as a man who knows, must be better than these simpletons, these apes, who do not comprehend. I wonder from where do these thoughts go, as they are…..no. I must continue. There is no possible prediction for what The Light knows will happen. I must make haste with its message.

Light moves in a direction. This fact is surely known by all. While it collides, repulses, and refracts through matter, it shines from a source past what is perceived. It shows us things long gone, and is all that it ever was. I emphasize this so you can understand the massiveness that is the light we can never escape. The light that moves through the eons and through the expanse, visible and invisible, yet all we see means that we block its way. For it is there even as we do not see it. In order for light to be seen, it must come to an eternal end.

Light shines even as it is covered. And all is matter, lesser and greater than other matter, yet all is matter. Yet light shines through matter? Therefore, it must be far greater than any other source of inquiry, of joy, or horror. It carves its path through and around all others and fills the space where we, as substance, cannot. Even the fabrics of space render useless before a concentrated beam, where no other source could manage to see. We and all we know are part of a system, within a system, where light is the skin, skeleton, and musculature. If you can perceive it, it is because Light allows it. So what could be said about what light is not?

Light is the framework in which gravity holds matter in space. It is the graph, greater than any physical manifestation. Purely non-physical, yet visible, visceral to our flawed, imperfect reality. Greater than any of our laws. Even those that create other laws. The only branch of creation that comes close to the possible depth of discernment with the Greatest Discovery is that of Time.

Time is a factor that limits Light, so it must be the only force capable to restrict it. Light can only live with Time. Time may have no purpose without Light. In this balance that has always been, a child was born. We, as substance are the creation of our forebears, Time and Light. It is their decree that keeps us whole as we urge forward, every trillion microseconds known by both Time and Light.

I have seen what they say, as all worshipers of radiance have. Those who usher to Ra, the greatest of gods, would know his command. His call for an end that humanity has heard since rational thought was available to our psyche. That which shines must burn out. A candle cannot burn forever. Only time and the concept of light that has ever shown and will show, exist. Our entirety is a blip blinking in their reality. A beginning, whence we were created, and an end, played forwards and backwards form merely one millimeter on the expanse that is Time, and this cruel dance, repeated on end past any comprehension, form that which we can see. That which She illuminates, I have seen.

Where I was blind in my research, only searching for that which is seen, I could not fathom what Time gave me in my constant worship towards His counterpart. They showed me Their favorite child. They had shown me End.

While I look up at the stars even now, I shudder in anticipation. At the end of every wire, there holds the opportunity for another wire to be connected. As is our reality, but a wire moving through time. I desperately wish to feel the light pour from the eyes that have been always watching, and in few moments time, as will we all. A use of imagery is necessary in order for those who cannot know, to know. A line points from each star to where you can see it. This implies there is a source to all stars that stands even today. A great mass in the heavens from where our Mother pours. Yet I know this is a perversion of their gospel. For as a beginning is, we shall end.

Where you and I can see, all there is. All there is. For our father has printed us onto his timeline, and so he can wash us away. Everywhere we can see is there, but everywhere we cannot has already ended. For as we search, we find no more. We are thrown from the arm of reality in our floating disparity, and we will fade as a vapor. The ghost of everything we see, shown to us only through His grace. So as we see the stars, we feel no heat besides our own. There is no other star besides ours. Ra. Queen of the heavens, and Time, Her eternal partner.

And so, we still strive to see that which we think we know. A cruel joke. We laugh at the truths we insult.

I am the prophet of our destruction. Light is turning away from us. Even now, She has left. All that is left is Time, as we finish her stride in the ballroom, he has released us from his hold, and so we will fall, only for Them to build anew as They connect. Yet, we still fall, and they will be born. A truth as real as ours, though anew and alien. Their ballroom full of other dancers, and we, the spaces in between. For they are the true, and we the story. For as I write, my world shakes. The stars have gone out tonight, as I said they would, for they never were but a shadow in the expanse of time. A child of our Queen, who will begin and remain even through the end. As I watch my childhood favored constellations cease, as no other man has seen, I know it will be painless. For in Their mercy, They enact a swift movement along Their dance near the conclusion of our motion. The stars are gone. The planets ceased. The nebulas, never were. They were but a brief moment as our Creators swirl. And I, the least of all. Goodni