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Wolves until the world goes down. That's what it feels like.
Badly paraphrased from several of Stephen Baxter's books (Origin, and basically all the ones with blue circles, I think): In the afterglow of the Big Bang, humanity spread across the face of the universe, sprawling and breeding and dying, until the stars grew dark. Even then, life remained; those who were left grew great on gravitational fat. But in the end, entropy would have its way. And as the last remnants of humanity spun out their long, slow lives, eking out the last energy in the universe, dogged, half-insane, they realised - it wasn't meant to be this way.
./~ Behold He comes, riding on the clouds, shining like the sun, at the trumpte call; lift your voice, it's the year of Jubilee, out of Zion's hill salvation comes ~/.
./~ Deep in our hearts there's a cry as the Spirit and Bride say Come, Jesus, Come, take your white horse and ride through the heavens, come... ~/.
I'm rambling. Wolves until the world goes down is something like the title of a short story I read, which I loved the title of, and was a solid short story but I thought at the time it was nothing to write home about. Although now I see the relevance; it's a short fantasy story about the cycle of the Norse mythology being broken by the final suicide of one of the gods who is meant to come back from the place of the dead, to prevent the younger gods from hastening Ragnarok after they let Fenir loose early. The cycle is broken and nobody knows what will happen; it is implied that the end of the world - wolves until the world goes down - certainly won't, at least as planned.
It was that survey that really made me think; what have I accomplished? nothing permanent that I know of. what do I want to be? useful. But, I don't seem to do much towards that nowadays; when I was a kid I handed out pamphlets, I read out poems, with the Damascus Trust, which is still going, although we're not sure how and what exactly is being done any more. Because my income is pitiful, so is my giving; I don't work, after all. I guess I pray a bit, but not as much as I ought, although we never do, or we'd do nothing else.
I blame this entry soley on there being none of the people I would normally bounce this kind of thing off around to talk me out of posting it.
Badly paraphrased from several of Stephen Baxter's books (Origin, and basically all the ones with blue circles, I think): In the afterglow of the Big Bang, humanity spread across the face of the universe, sprawling and breeding and dying, until the stars grew dark. Even then, life remained; those who were left grew great on gravitational fat. But in the end, entropy would have its way. And as the last remnants of humanity spun out their long, slow lives, eking out the last energy in the universe, dogged, half-insane, they realised - it wasn't meant to be this way.
./~ Behold He comes, riding on the clouds, shining like the sun, at the trumpte call; lift your voice, it's the year of Jubilee, out of Zion's hill salvation comes ~/.
./~ Deep in our hearts there's a cry as the Spirit and Bride say Come, Jesus, Come, take your white horse and ride through the heavens, come... ~/.
I'm rambling. Wolves until the world goes down is something like the title of a short story I read, which I loved the title of, and was a solid short story but I thought at the time it was nothing to write home about. Although now I see the relevance; it's a short fantasy story about the cycle of the Norse mythology being broken by the final suicide of one of the gods who is meant to come back from the place of the dead, to prevent the younger gods from hastening Ragnarok after they let Fenir loose early. The cycle is broken and nobody knows what will happen; it is implied that the end of the world - wolves until the world goes down - certainly won't, at least as planned.
It was that survey that really made me think; what have I accomplished? nothing permanent that I know of. what do I want to be? useful. But, I don't seem to do much towards that nowadays; when I was a kid I handed out pamphlets, I read out poems, with the Damascus Trust, which is still going, although we're not sure how and what exactly is being done any more. Because my income is pitiful, so is my giving; I don't work, after all. I guess I pray a bit, but not as much as I ought, although we never do, or we'd do nothing else.
I blame this entry soley on there being none of the people I would normally bounce this kind of thing off around to talk me out of posting it.
