Into an Unknown Future

I propose to do something once I'm dead (That is suspending the belief that I could actually DO anything when I'm deceased) that I hope will propel my "entity" into immortality. Once I pass away from life, I choose to be cremated and my urn jettisoned into space. And this is essentially where my legacy ends and a new one begins. Who's to know what could become of me or how long my "journey" will last?

Perhaps, I eventually get absorbed into a star or my urn shatters on the surface of an asteroid and my ashes spread to all ends of the Universe. Better yet, maybe my urn is intercepted thousands or millions of years later by an advanced alien species and they reconstruct me. Through those actions, I could basically obtain immortality. And who knows? Maybe my image is then worshipped as a God of some sort.

I'm sure I have better chances of my ashes just disintegrating amongst the chaos that is the Universe, but it's better than just staying on Earth.

Understanding Life

Several ties for several knots.

The Purpose of the Apocalypse

To paraphrase a popular saying: "If you love something, set it free..."

Could this is the purpose of the Apocalypse (when it happens, of course)? To look at this from God's point of view, it makes sense to me. The world is so full of corruption and contempt that it makes it very hard for anyone to believe that there is good in the world. I figure once we hit "critical mass" where good is so outnumbered, there will be no other course than to destroy the world, hence the Apocalypse.

It's like having a bowl so caked over in tomato sauce and mold (from sitting out so long) that it's much easier to throw the bowl away and buy a new one. Eventually our world will become so caked over with filth that God will simply throw the world away and start anew. Of course, he'll save whatever good is left for the new world.

The Beginning of Thought

Of all beginnings, ideas illuminate forth
From the mind of the finite or infinite.
Their wispful breath incarnates a slight touch,
Stirring the breezes of thought into a broth,
And captures every detail regardless of any minute.

Collided filaments that spun into life,
Give cause of a reality made true
Looking over and marveling a wondrous creation
Devoid of facts or opinions of strife,
Waiting to be invaded or induced.

Before the idea becomes its own entity,
The creator assumes complete control,
Allowing an entrance of benefit,
Or perhaps sheltering it with lasting impiety,
Defining the shape of its cognitive whole.

Imitation is key to its self-knowledge.
Only what it knows, it shows,
Continuing to paint the portrait of itself
From the inside out, announcing privilege.
The brush strokes speak like poetic prose.