A TOKEN OF UNIVERSAL TRUISM, AMONGST MANY

An infant once, then time takes its toll.

   Man's precarious destiny is one that he holds in his hands; that is, if the tide goes his way and allows him to mount the waves of ease till he reaches his adorned destination. Yet, man cannot break loose from the chains of his very own ego; an ego that is curious and endlessly ambitious. Some call it the law of life; others call it the uncanny human infatuation with the unknown.

   Regardless of the hardships man endures in his laborious journey towards each of his safe destinations, he finds himself once again thrown into another sea to cross; and repeatedly, he must wrestle the tide as ferociously as his spirit allows. What was once desired is now abhored; what was the foreseable future is now the buried past. Whatever looms in man's horizon is vague to his misleading rational intuition, yet he sails the murky waters of life.

   As time passes by, and as the years nibble at man's mortal flesh; only then that man fathoms that life is never neutral, nor does it ever practice one of his finest arts; the art of bigotry. Life is tied from end to end by subtle threads of universal truths, linking each species with the cosmos. However, The hectic journeys man embarks on towards his very desired destinations is something he willingly chooses. Yet, during each one of his journeys, man perceives apparent omens which clearly indicate that his destination is not promised, and that his fight against the tide will not necessarily give way to fulfillment, but may lead to an irrovocable state of damnation. For man rows not against the tides of the universe, but rides the waves of his predatory and ominous ego. The path is crossed, inter-webbed, and intricate for a man living one-dimensionally, a man who unroots his tree in order to warm his frail frame in his conversion to a state of conscious denial.

   Wounded by his own curiosity, beaten at every turn, and startled by the deafening bells of mortality. Carried by each wave, drowned by every slip of destiny, then redeemed by holding his fate in the hands of God. Man succumbs to the frailty of his will when he makes terms with the wuthering winds of the absurd; when he stretches his spirit to grace the surface of the ether. Only then does he enjoy a state of clarity; admitting his being is nothing but a cloud that graces the infinite edges of time and the universe, in search of its maker.