So, the Mayan Calendar has counted down to the end of the world, and time is no more. I sit today outside of that time, beyond the life envisaged by the Mayan civilization. And what thoughts occur, now I have outlived their ken?
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
Yes, before us others have seen that life is but an illusion. Indeed our very presence in this universe is signified neatly by Beckett in his play “A Breath”, as filmed by Damien Hirst below using hospital waste, look out for the swastika, symbol of both life and death;
Life is short, the revels soon are ended. So what are you going to do with the rest of yours? What difference do you plan to make? Figure it out, and get busy tryin’ or get busy dyin’.
To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
by Robert Herrick
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.