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I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, (...)
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
—The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused (...)
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear—no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anaesthetic from which none come round.
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
(...)
Philip Larkin
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Nomad
A beautiful poem, do you feel this way?
Kind of. I actually know it for the Devs scene I linked below. I loved the series and that scene is perfect in more than one way.
But yes, I think I connected with the series because it shows some of my fears in a new way. And part of main topics are summed up in that scene.
by Anxo; ; Report
The poem and your fears remind me of a philosopher about whom I'd discussed with a friend. Have you ever heard of Soren Kirkegaard?
by Nomad; ; Report