Life is imbalance. The constant movement from one thing to the other, begging, to continue, to never be complete. What is death if not balance? The eternal torment and desolation of hell, the eternal silence and darkness of oblivion, the eternal joy and serenity of heaven. Paint it, as you like, it is balanced. Closed. Unchanging. You looked to the heavens and asked your creator for more. And you were gifted a world you did not understand, of whose mysteries went on forever. Death must be beautifull, frightening, incomprehensible, God must follow principles beyond your understanding, infinite im complexity, so that life can continue on exponentially.And you served your God with pride, you loved him so much, you gave him temples, marked by the generations of your fathers and forefathers, untill you forgot what it was like to have no god, no meaning, no pourpose. You wished to do as you pleased. You wished to kill your fathers, your kings, you wished to kill God. And you did everything you could to understand that world that was gifted to youYou saw, saw so much, and found, found nothing.The myriad forms of life, driven to exist for no other pourpose but to exist. You painted your flags with that, that brotherhood of breeds, you bled for them, by God, you bled for them. You piled so much food and wealth that no generation would be hungry again, and gave all who bore your flag of its grain. You removed the misery from your race, you made them all equals, like religion should have done for you, like the God you now hated should have done, and still. Nothing.
You have only your fellow man now, and what you've learnt of the beasts poisons your mind. Enemies on all sides, you deny the soul, you deny your kinship with them, you deny there being a creator, and now there's only a mass of flesh competing with you, with your memory, with your importance, with your existentence. Wanton misery was inflicted upon them to separate the magnificent you from the masses, you kept them from the grain that was now plentifull so that they ate their children, you kept them from the cures that were already invented so that they suffered from illness, you made them breed like cockroaches to fight and struggle with no dignity. Because what is the purpose of life, if not to struggle?
>>42688245illusion = entropy'daeth'= timeless singularity
Nietzschean slop. Plato's allegory of the cave remains unrefuted.
>>42688245>You saw, saw so much, and found, found nothing.speak for youself.
>>42689698Indeed
