When containment sinks within us its deep and suppressed absolution, much like an arrow of similarly intentioned completion; we do not -as with the proverbial arrow- reach a quick witted death of wisdom's expression within our reputation; instead, we reach a conclusion much more fitted for the dying; one that refuses the freedom of death, but at the very same moment compels us to life- to a life which is not our own. As we claim our own life, we forget what we never knew; the value of our existence. Only when we forfeit what we think that we have, can we realize the actual value of it. Thus, this principle is at work within our bodies: its preservation is desired because of its apparently great value. The Pride of Life therefore being a great and common transgression, if not the root of most transgressions themselves.
We must realize our own foolishness. The preservation of our lives is desired so much because of how much we believe it is worth; yet we forget that until we place it in comparison with something else, this life is out of context and is lost in nothingness. However, the powerful and debilitating truth is that as soon as our life is put into context it never even budges an inch from the nothingness it was already. In fact, I think that as soon as our life is put into context, it becomes even less than nothing. How can we expect to move beyond the containment which is itself contained within our souls if we never get past our own boorish tendency to think that we are worth something -even to think that we are worth a great deal? We must step beyond this pride, and recognize the necessary trading of our life into the currency of value and its consequential and immediate decimation.
Yet, when decimated, I think that we may find what we were looking for; as we realize the less-than-nothingness of our life's value we will be able to admit our own inability to change that status, and thus, in the most dire need, cry out to something which can both claim and retain some value for our lives and person; something which does not have an obligation to make something of the nothingness of ourselves, but rather something which can move beyond the containment we naturally maintain to deadly perfection within our mortal bodies into a place where the containment is a constant acceptance of the absolutionistic terms of peace we have been offered -no- commanded, by the One who lays claim to our nothingness.
And who alone, my soul, can rightly lay claim to nothingness but the One who can make from it something? To this One I do myself repair, most diligently and urgently, for if I tarry- I am lost.
