You’ve traveled far to see me, child,
and never told me why.
Am I supposed to love you, hate you,
live with you, or die?
You’ve traveled far to see me, child,
but I don’t know your name.
Am I to solve a riddle or to
play a guessing game?
You’ve traveled far to see me
following some long dead star.
And now you stand before me here,
so I’ll know who you are.
No longer sentient, my child.
Not able to inquire.
I can no longer see or hear
your circumstances dire.
I’ve no advice or wisdom.
You must learn them on your own.
The maggots feasted long ago,
and sharp fangs cracked the bone.
I’ll say your name to you, my child,
and I will speak it true.
The skeleton you gaze at on this mountaintop
is you.
Descend now from this mountain, child.
There’s nothing for you here.
Death’s but a silent, endless dream
and so you mustn’t fear.
You weep, my child, but foolishly.
The fate of all is this:
the gods who see us war and play
betray us with a kiss.
Beyond Panic 