Note:
Finifugal (adjective): hating endings; someone who prolongs saying goodbye for as long as possible.
The verdict was never in doubt, always a matter of ‘when ‘rather than ‘if’. No matter our deeds, the final call will not be a whisper. None will emerge unscathed; it’s a harsh reality: No one will escape the trial of life.
Our existence, in all its facets, is undeniably transient and ephemeral. We navigate our days as active participants, seizing every moment or withdrawn observers. But regardless of our approach, time inevitably erodes its custodians. This truth becomes most poignant as we transition between life’s chapters, weather its changes, and ultimately meet our fate. Does the fleeting nature of life not compel us to seek guidance and make our choices count?
The madness for a cohesive understanding persists endlessly. Add a hundred years to our count of things, and there will only be a memory of us on faded paper or, if we are fortunate, on moss-covered stones. What changes should we make daily once we own this truth? Is understanding even helpful when navigating our complicated lives without a straightforward solution? We become victims of delusion—that we may somehow evade the inevitable. There is never an answer to that quest or a schema on how we might pull it off, yet we cling to the urge dearly.
We are not entirely salvaged from our desires to hide from inescapable ends. Some fall into the dark crater of hopelessness for feeling existence as smoke—it glides off too quickly without remnants of its absence. Still, few persist in making an imprint. They become occupied with staying in the memory of loved ones. Every moment, every good action, petal, and pebble is precious to them to make the garland of their presence. Changelessness is essential to cultivate this conviction, and more patience is necessary to adhere to the fascination when the surroundings are bleak! Only then, against all the odds, the solace of reassurance sprouts in reason, and the drought of feeling powerless fades from the monsoon rain of faith.
Nature does not hiccup because of the absence of a soul; it spins buoyantly without missing a beat.