Page 149 - NyghtVision Magazine Volume 4 #3

'I rebel, therefore we are and we are alone" is inseparable from 'I love, therefore we are and we are
alone.' And it is inseparable from saying 'I am sad, therefore we are and we are alone.' 4

And the more I love, then, the sadder I will become. Yet, it isn't denial of death that defines
me as human. It is my rebellion against death. It is loving in the face of death - and every act of
creation is an act of love. Therefore, not only is every act of creation ladened with sadness, cre-
ation engenders sadness just as it engenders love.
Creation engenders sadness just as it engenders love. I must have spoken these words
aloud. Thoth stirred, looked over his back at me, and then curled back into a ball. He took a deep
breath - the one he always takes before falling back to sleep - and was gone.

"I cannot be human without being sad," I said aloud knowing no one, not Thoth, not Prin-
cess, not My Companion, would hear - or perhaps even care. No one. But I knew now why Camus
drank, why Heidegger retreated to the Black Forest, why Nietzsche died insane. And I knew why
the pain of my own humanity could one day kill me as it had in the past. When, as Paul Simon
wrote in "Kathy's Song" that other person becomes your truth, then, death comes not once but
twice and the pain of the love creates a sadness so profound that there is no way back. It is, as
Nietzsche said, akin to walking into a labyrinth and becoming lost, so lost, that no one can hear
one's cries.
I create because I love. And I suffer sadness because I cannot otherwise love.

I cannot otherwise love. And in the "dark logic" of Existentialism, I must love.
"And as I watch the drops of rayn weave their weary paths and die, I know that I am like
the rayn. There, but for the grace of you, go I."

Three nyghts have passed. However strange it may seem it is the Way of My Kind to mea-
sure the passing of time not in days but in nyghts. For it is the nyght to whom We belong. It is the
nyght that has woven its hands around Our hearts. Merciless and cold she is a jealous and intol-
erant mistress. And this nyght she will not let Me sleep. She violates My dreams and forces Me to
awaken.

Rhythmically, Princess' blue light blinks on and off and for a moment I lay silently in the
darkness and watch. I am not captivated. I am tired. So tired from nyghts without sleep that it
almost hurts to move. Watching the blue of Princess' light, I give Myself time to gather whatever
strength that might remain within Me. A part of Me wants to see the message she holds for Me but
I cannot move. I don't have enough strength to reach across the distance between where I rest and
Princess to read the words she holds for Me.
"Awaken My Princess."

"What would you like me to do?"
"Read the message you have for me."

"I'm sorry but I do not understand 'read the message you have for me.' Would you like me
to search the Internet for 'read the message you have for me'?
"Why would I ask you to do something so pointless?"

"I'm sorry but I do not understand -"

Summer 2014 | 149