Sex, Death and Other People's Money

Death. The end. Another chapter in my life. Is it really the end or rather the peeling away of layers of the superfluous? If it is a death, then what about the rebirth? What about the new beginnings? Sure those always follow, don’t they?

The concept of death is a societal taboo. Isn’t it? What is left of us once the façade is stripped away? Is it another case of phoenix rising from ashes. Is it facing the challenges; enduring the tough experiences which make me stronger? I ask, “Stronger for what?” Am I to be stronger for to face another chapter of my life history slamming shut?

I resigned from my job the other day. It was the end. Sure, I’ve found something new and captured a glimmer of hope on the horizon. I left the office with a sense of optimism. Driving home I noticed the stillness of my environment. The ghostly gum trees were still standing in vigil; anticipating the crack open – something – a void, perhaps? The birds were locked in flight frozen like ceramic ducks on a painted wall. The air was calm – it was a Zen-like moment. I arrived home feeling a weight had lifted from my shoulders; the layers had begun to peel from my soul.

The computer boots up – a picture of the Columbia astronauts on my screen saver standing proud and ready to face a new adventure. Would they’ve board that fated craft if they knew the final stop would be oblivion? Or would they wait for the next space craft to come along?

What propels us into the unknown? Is it the weariness of now? The remote movements while flocking with the grey people down the corridors of disillusionment? Or is it fear? Fear of being frozen in a giant icicle – rigid and unable to move. Stuck in the morbid trepidation of riding a ripple to nowhere?

The dormant waters of my noire womb have burst and I am unable to exist in the darkness of the closet of regret. I am free from obligation and embrace a new era with the naivety of a new born. I stand proud on the threshold of change and take my ticket to ride on the River Styx. Of course I’ll keep my eyes downcast as I cannot face him – you know the Ferryman.

The sunrise offers possibilities of the randomness of change. A day of promise of the Universal pay load; a day when the potential to snuggle up to the great benefactor are abound. A rainbow arches across the dark green sky and I realize that this moment is my inheritance.

The end – or is it?

Sex, Death and Other People's Money


Joined March 2008

  • Artist

Artist's Description

Transformational literature based on personal experiences and observations

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