Kyrie eleison

I expected oblivion, as many of us did, but we do not always get what we expect.

An ineffable calm transcends all in the grave, even the slow decomposition of one’s body. Yes, in the grave: where one’s body lies, the spirit may not leave, but this is not as disconcerting as it might sound. This uncanny breach between flesh and soul is part and parcel of this time. There is reflection. There is peace.

The body returns to the soil but the soul remains, as though carried in the palm of an enormous hand.

Here, freed from the inertia of life, one may see clearly. All of history’s goods and evils are perfectly evident, eternal testimony to human nature. In retrospect, all of these things seemed somehow inevitable, not that this changes one moment of joy or sorrow. And time’s flow continues.

As it flows, I wait, we wait, for what will come. Within this flow, there are reverberations. Even the future echos here, all distant trumpets and thunder. And we know that what comes is not mere apocalypse; it is Reckoning.

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