the last words

The last man to speak has nothing to say, bewildered amidst the maelstrom of free-floating images, surprised by the strangers by his side. 

At times, in those last few months,
he would think of a word.

and he had to remember the tree, or the species of a frog..

the graves he swept and raked; the wedding songs.

while years of silence gathered...

the name of a bird in his mother tongue.

__ _ __ ___--- __

J. Burnside.

What is the word for loss, again? What ancient pathway comes to an abrupt end when memory fades? Where is fancy bred?

At times, towards the end, he would imagine the meals he had eaten, shared with those close to him; recall the young ones who had moved to the city in search of something he couldn't fathom; and sit patiently in the depthless afternoon shadows trying to stitch together the brief moments of his life. What pattern has my life taken, what final form does may face display? 

There were points of gold in the morning stream; they coagulated and formed a black sun, taking on a life of their own; then in a flash the circle broke and disassembled, the shining points sinking back down like heavy stones.

With no fire in his mind he clasped his hands together in an act that was neither spontaneous nor deliberate; the rituals he carried in his body, though dimming with time, would make him recognizable as his father's son, always his father's son. It was a blessing that his father would not see him like this, with his last, stammering words, that only he would have understood.

~~

In our saner moments we conclude, not unreasonably, that by destroying other beings (human and non-human), by decimating our natural and social habitats, we will end up destroying ourselves-since everything is connected, related to something else (whether we know it or not). It is only a matter of time-and this thought still haunts us, even in our so-called post-religious milieu: karma: what goes around, comes around.

What kind of deep knowledge, understanding, will lead us to that realisation, though? Science may tell us the "facts" and economics through its narrow prism inform us of the "costs" and benefits" but neither the analytical nor the pragmatic mind has led to much hope of a change in direction. The possibility of a catastrophe is now not insignificantly small (see Weitzman). The whole thing is shrouded in uncertainty (what one IPCC report called a "cascade of uncertainty"). 

Some changes will occur-that much is for sure. But have we reached a 'tipping point' beyond which mitigation will be of little use? The system may be subject to threshold levels or non-linear dynamics-in which case we may not really have that good idea of what comes beyond that point. If the permafrost melts, releasing methane into
the atmosphere, then what? 

Perhaps our love of continuity ("the mind intuits unity") prevents us from thinking of radical altered states of being (the most radical being, of course, the condition of not-being). But it is hubristic to think we can carry on like this forever, accumulating debts, living on borrowed time.

Think of an animal that has lived on this planet for 5 million years, and that now faces extinction.

'Everything perishes, except the Face of your Lord', all Muslims are told. These words may bring peace to those who can share that detached perspective. For others it might lead to despair or indifference, or a dive into hedonism. For others still, it might suggest that the world, a dream though it is, a fleck of ancient gold, a ring in a desert, is still a more beautiful and serious place for all that since it still harbours the possibility of life, the chance of love-as well as their termination.

'The song of joy and sorrow is always with us'
---Mir Dard.