Like old trees, dead on the inside, only maggots and slimy creatures living inside. Our heads are filled with straw, we talk and mumble in meaningless phrases, empty words from empty mouths and empty tongues. And masked with our best makeup to make it all better.
But it's not better. It's never better.
I love the Eliot poem "The Hollow Men". I love men who spoke the truth and it still rings true today. There are some parts of the human condition that do not change with the fashion trends and technology. Whether groaning in silence or spewing lies, man remains the same. I wonder if lying has evolved, like we supposedly have. I don't think so, on both parts.
"Our dried voices, when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass or rats’ feet over broken glass in our dry cellar"
That's pretty much it.
And I love in his poem how he tries to complete the Lord's Prayer and he can't. Instead he talks about the end of the world. I'll post the end of that in just a moment. But I want to talk about the Lord's Prayer. I used to think I was pretty good at prayer, enjoyed praying in groups of people out loud, voicing our needs and wants from my kneeling pulpit, but it was mostly hot air to fill up my self righteous balloon. And it flew for a while, until I was destroyed. Now, it's different. I talk to G-d with honesty, with simple words, like I am talking to him, not preaching at others. Now, that's not to say I am better than anyone. In my honest opinion we should just do like Jesus says and pray the Lord's Prayer everyday when we wanna talk to G-d.
The last line of T.S. Eliot's poem goes:
"For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the worlds ends
Not with a bang but with a whimper."
In "Donnie Darko" Roberta Sparrow says, "Every single living creature dies alone." And I think that physically yes, we die one at a time, in our own unique way, capping that unique life that we led. With a whimper, with a cry out. But in other ways, no. We die together, we die holding hands. But we still give up our last breath. We give up the ghost.
And that is how we go, that is how the world ends. Whether alone or not, whether a bang or a whimper, it will end, but a beautiful ending it will be. As Tolkien said, "(The) grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back and he beheld white shores, and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise."
That is my ending. Can't wait.
