The world is on the edge of destruction. But don't despair! I have come to understand that the world has not ended or will end once. Instead, it has ended a million times in the past and will end a billion times in the future. This is because we are the universe, we are the drop in the ocean, and the ocean in the drop. The beach is only an infinity of particles, never a solidity, but those particles find meaning in their union. And so our own existence is to see that we are both a grain of sand and well as the giant who trods on the shore.
So to return to the apocalypse. Do you await a herald and sound of bellowing horns? A savior to descent from the clouds at the head of an army of angels. To what end?
The great battle cry is the music of your breath and heart. The fire of being that delights in joy, in the carefree laugh of a child, in acts of mercy, love, and daring. Your soul is a righteous, purifying fire that burns without smoke. What are the stars of night compared to stars encased in flesh.
But know, no man can save you from your hour of truth, your narrow bridge between courage and fear, truth and lies, justice or servitude. No being, no God, no other soul can stand between you and your own internal reckoning. And to ask them to would be preposterous. They'd give a hardy laugh, saying "If I do that, how will you ever meet yourself?".
Don't let the petty goblins and trolls that guard that bridge distract you. Their purpose is to prevent such an encounter, a reunion you as fire and you as source. These harvesters of souls are bizarrely backward farmers, tiling the soul, the most fertile of things, with the aim of making it barren. They are rocks that must be climbed and overcome, yes, but never confuse them for the mountain that must be ascended.
I see the shadows of this world, the snakes lurking in the high grass. But I am now fully armed with my own authenticity. I cannot be shamed. Or brought low my social mockery. I not only know truth, but I stand proud and confident in the path I walk.
And somewhere in the distant horizon, I see the red sky that heralds my own great struggle with the dragon, the great trial of trails. My apocalypse. I now understand Socrates and his constant admonishment that philosophy is a preparation for death. A will prepare. Prepare for a beautiful death. And by doing so, secure myself a beautiful life of authenticity and integrity.
Come, friends, will you walk with me a while as I follow this path of inner destiny. I will accompany you as you walk your path. Each of us, walking each other to his or her own appointed battle. And As we walk, be joyful. Be not afraid. And in that moment, that key to infinity, let our souls be adamantine!