It all started with a vision of the laid-waste of the Abaco Island

and the fiery waste of a dive boat just off Malibu

and the lonely stretch of postal dregs in a cinematic parking space vast West Texas violent free-state driven bye.
 
I’m thinking visual and it is the deathly hallows of a conflux of visions of the death that’s all around us

the death that is real that is immediate that is ubiquitous that is frightening and compulsively so to so many without question. Fact of life.

This is the death that has ever been required of us as beings, human and seemingly finite, churning of souls.

That has ever been so. Infinity before and for a long time to come, it seems.

So many scenes such as the ones with us now have been.

Think plague. Think plunder, Mongols, conquest and pillage and hordes. Think Viking.

Think Hitler holocaust the solution of final establishment national nationalism, language, race and creed.  Heritage.

Think ethnic cleansing. Think disaster. Think Etna. Think Pompeii. Think Long March and Great Leap Forward and Cultural Revolution. Think Aztec. Think conceptually of all laid waste to only a remnant. Think humanity cursed as a fig tree at the hands of an angry god; a bear set upon overly teasing children.

(the one who gives life can be the one who takes it away)

Think rationalization. Remember the Amalek. Remember the ghost, the ass, Balaam. The setup.

Holy War, Batman! Arbitrary albatross. Strange Fruit.

Think critically. Think Inquisition. 100 years’ war. The ladies lifted cake to their mouths. Clash of civilizations. Civil War. Passchendaele. Trenches topped for sake of inches of mud at a price of life.

Think mass sacrifice. Nothing new under the sun. Proverbial too.

Think fictional if you will. Think Voldemart. Think Thanos. Snap.
Star Wars.

Think sacrifice singular and massive, cultist or megalomania or not.

Disasters, natural and man-made. Home grown. Creative thinking.

There must be an answer written somewhere refuting End Times unique aura like “Enlightenment Now” does.  With charts.

You can find it written, of course, matter-of-factly, in “Aeneid”, Book VI

But that is heathenish, bickeringly [sic] sickenly [sic] heretically-headedly wrong as to be taken out of account as “The Art of Dying” is Harrison being overly Easterly derivative same as the works of Emerson are too and the Autobiography of Yogi Yogananda is too in stark parallel Parahansa paraphrase of Sri Yukestewar Giri, scriptural scholar, Lihiri Mahasaya, Babaji all so much more respectful of Jesus than the religion that uses his name in talisman selfish, mythologizing, grasping in His holy name at hope one made in the image should create better.

Fear mongered by fear mongers barking mongrels fright in the night.

One-shot End-Times obsessed with punishment like hell.

Selfish personal escape squandering all that is human and kind.

It’s all founded on fear this fractured feeble fleeting fragile one-shot at life shot desperate forever frantic failure fallow.

The karmic wheels of judgment mill-stone grinding imperceptibly slowly yet so exceedingly fine over such eternity of time. Death, like the poor, is with us.

Yet we are all going somewhere. Let’s get there soon.