Death, the Breach
Death is a terrible breach.
It upsets a fundamental expectation of our humanity: that we are linear creatures, meant to progress indefinitely along the line of time. Death cracks that line with its gaping jaws and swallows us whole. Death is the recurring wound in the history of humanity.
And so we exist as lines stretched betwixt two points:
But not willingly. If we were meant to be so bracketed, why does the endpoint feel so consistently inappropriate? Why does it rudely interrupt, rather than elegantly complete? Why does it send shrapnel of existential doubt tearing through our souls?
Perhaps, it could be said, that humans are incurable optimists who simply cannot bear that the party should end. Perhaps the noble course of action would be to bow to the inevitable as we step off the merry-go-round and give some other kid a go at it.
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