Three Tunes for the Cathedral and a story for the House of Dead

Initial rejection is expected

That’s how the body reacts

To poison

And to antidotes.

Besides, the more battles you lose,

The stronger you grow

Till that day comes when you’re just too damn strong

To lose any battle.

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The multitude, the herd

Is highly interesting –

Observe closely –

An entire mass composed of a million crawling, writhing, moving dots –

Now magnify on those dots individually:

The first striking feature that you’ll observe

is that each one looks similar to the next

The second feature that’ll hit you pretty hard is that each one of them operates in similar fashion – through switching of buttons. There’s one button that makes them love and there’s another one that makes them hate. Again, there’s a button to make them happy and one to make them sad.

And so on.

And thus they regulate themselves and the others and the entire flock – with buttons regulating everything they say or think or feel or do or do not do, controlling the fact that they are there.

The third feature, and this one will disgust you, is that each one of those dots, when magnified sufficiently, looks very much like you.

The fourth feature that will shock you to core is that now you are wishing that you were like them,

You are wishing that you too could operate like them – through switches and buttons.

Because by now you are sure that they never get distressed, unlike you. They are all well-operated, and there’s no inconvenience involved in this scheme of things.

And the now comes the fifth feature that you will notice, and this might break your heart though it didn’t break mine:

That the only thing you have learnt and realised through this observation

is that

they are there

and you are here.

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Pass the night on now, pass everything that’s in it

The star that’s Hemmingway – if it’s watching me now,

The star that’s me is watching it too –

And both the stars want it this way.

Pass the night on now, and pass its blackbirds too

I leave the streets and the yellow huts

And i enter the oldest forest that ever was

For my home lies deep inside.

Pass the night on now, and pass the ringlet moon

And take your trips to the hollow land

But don’t take the one of fright

Had Hamlet been a machine, he would’ve known why.

Pass the night on now, and pass those heavens on fire

And pass its little eyeballs and pass its pinned up skin

I feel like a reptile among the monsters

But i’m closer to the rough surface

Pass the night on now, and pass your love to me

I can make a boat out of it, or i may eat it up

Pass the night on to me; i’ll grasp its rainy throat

And when it’s dead and cold enough, we shall have much fun.

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