The Most Reliable Specter
A personal thought....
A personal thought....
A plain and logical site turns to into a dark and unimaginable fright. You suffer through a temporary blindness that thickens with every brush of your hand. You stand motionless in the hopes that the darkness and gore around you will move on as if you are shielded from it by this thick, dense mist. Your heart pounds and you hold your breathe in every effort to not be seen, heard or felt. Your mind races over reasonable and rational explanations but you are locked away from logic and understanding. You are vulnerable both mentally and physically to beings not of an earthly realm. Fear turns into irrational emotion and you know that “THEY” already understand you are within their grasp.
You ask yourself: is it more important to make sense of this or try to understand that some medical condition is afflicting me? Do you dare tell of the angry, frustrated, and melancholy faces you see? Would you shun those children who are lost and hurt? Overlook the elderly who are still struggling to understand their potential destination? Do I ask if anyone else see’s the family pet who resolved from life ten years ago? What do I say to the man on the battlefield whose clothes are poorly sorted and stained with blood or the wild haired woman who has no understanding that she can not be seen in public in her naked state? Where do they come from? And where do they go?
It’s more than deplorable to know that you can not reach the dead without overcoming and understanding a fear that holds no boundaries and no limits over the living, an eternal struggle that is only bestowed upon a few worthy or unworthy souls. Barriers are lifted in communication with the dead but so must the living consider that they are far from living themselves. A mere shell of human flesh that grows and ages until the soul emerges upon its death. The parasite of life consists of few things to sustain itself but the soul of death lingers without a shred of dignity or moral, with no condition to warrant itself in any code of conduct.
Life creates fundamentalist hosts that carry the seeds of structured learning and understanding based on the human brain and the minds of great thinkers, but death is expelled from the that host and thrust into a world it once knew but is now ignored and eventually forgotten. Is death the extermination of the human soul? If so, why do the dead linger in such states? Why does the structure of life leave the explanation of the dead so vague and obtuse? Answers and justifications are one in the same and the purpose of communication between the living and the dead is already broken but bridged by those passed on and still mending from beyond the world of the structurally accepted.