Saturday, June 04, 2016

Isn't That Odd

But isn't that odd?
Each generation comes and goes, thinking that it's THE end. It's not, not for them, not for us. Not unless they're swept away by the tidal wave, or, Tsunami, because a tidal wave is the wave of the beginning or end of the high or low tide. It's only about ankle high. Yet it's only a teaspoon required up the nose to drown perhaps, but the Japanese word, Tsunami better fits, regardless if it is or isn't a Dragon at the bottom of the Sea slapping its tale on the sea bottom,  which causes the storm of water that gets you, even though clearly the tide could.
Each generation on this old glob, and it is a glob, mostly covered with water, but called Earth, for some reason, thinks it's the end for them. And quite rightly for them it is. Buildings fall down, bridges collapse. The earth quakes. Drought and Pestilence kills many. But, isn't it odd, this mythos, the myth of The End, is ingrained almost within each of us? With every generation? Isn't that odd?
 And do we ever ask how or why? And why do we even bother? There's no answer forthcoming, is there? Isn't that odd?
  Is it just a perspective deal? Earth. Covered mostly with Water. Okay. We call it earth. Anywhere down we dig and it's molten, lava, hot, hell, liquid too.
 Not stable. Always in perpetual change as it were.
 If not slightly irritated, then at least gently perturbed. Our natural state perhaps? The earth, us? And while people come and go, dreaming and scheming, the earth for the most part, abides, just like The Dude. And yet somehow we know it will all pass. Our lives. Its lives, the planets, stars, all in good time, My Dearie. All in good time. It's good or not good to be a meteor, all atoms aglow, and, Jack, (Mr. London), you're wrong, a planet is not permanent or even sleepy. But, you're right, in relative context, perspective, it is. Humans come and go faster than the heavens, as it were. How do we know this? Why? Because we want to? Because we have to, to survive or exist with any sense of humor, proportion? That we know and or knew all along, this mythos these mysteries, tales, all along the way. Isn't it odd?

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