There has been too much consternation in the past few notes I have made, so let us concern ourselves with the stars instead.
The air is so sweet on the beach, and hearing the tide combing in and out is a luscious joy. I wonder, if all those eons ago, when mankind dwelt not on this land, who was there to enjoy the singing foam, the waves that rushed in and retreat out with their dulcet notes? Only the trees were there…I imagine myself, sitting there with those trees, all of mankind’s long history not yet scribed by men, and I imagine myself taking in the gentle joy of that tide.
I will not urge mankind to enjoy such pleasures…it is in vain! You are not worthy of such pleasures, this joy is for myself, and I enjoy it readily. Come, you can sit by me too and enjoy the tide soaking in and out if you so desire, but let us not talk, for talk is the food of fools who think themselves so important that they must be heard.
The Universe is much more vital, which is why its voice is sung in many songs. The rise of the morning breeze, the rustling of leaves, the splashing and crashing of waves against the rocks. Hark, are there any voices in this stretched sanctum? The golden sands that flush through my raw toes, ages have passed us, as many as those grains, but this world without boundaries knows not one moment from another. They spilled together in our world, and that recurring dream of sun rising in the morning, and moon rising in the evening continued like the dancing spirals of lightning crashing through the storm’s bosom in the nocturnal tempest.
Why did the world dream of man I wonder? What possessed it so? I would have liked that gentle dream, of the sunlit beach, running for a thousand years of quietitude…but man? Mark there, that glitter of jewels in the depths…is that man’s beckoning? Does this tranquility offend them? Let them be offended, for they do not exist, we know our ancestors and they know us…Nature offered us this place, and it was our refuge, as children.
No no no, I see you still do not understand! You watching from the clouds above, or peering through the trees behind, or squinting through a screen besides…none of you understand, how dearly you cling to your prison! How loudly you cry out, ‘No no no Kohath, be silent for you do disturb our sense of the world! I love my country, I love my woman, I love my cult, I love my culture, I love what fleets from me, but this eternal joy of infinite paradise, oh no no no, keep this away from me! I am tempted by peace, do not wave it before me!’ Ha! Have I shaken you yet? No worries, you will refute it very soon! Some of you will persevere though, the philosophers, the ascetics, the gurus, you remember our sanctum do you not? Away from these braying voices?