Friday, February 09, 2007

Winter Sets In

"Cold Angel" by WExX

So, today I had a little time to kill between appointments and I decided to explore. Strangely enough, I ended up driving into the cemetery gates in Gillette. The dark, bare tree branches were drooping from the weight of an ice encasing. The ground was dusted white, undisturbed as if no one had walked across it in some time.

I'm drawn to the dead time and time again. And tonight, I think I figured out a reason for this anomaly. That grand conclusion is this: the dead never say anything.

The dead don't make conversation or ridicule your work or act ungrateful for the things you do. The dead never lie, they only know Truth, one Truth, their Truth... they are dead, and nothing else matters to them anymore.

There is some deep-set beauty in this. Its wholesome and silent. Just Truth. No dilluted tales. No promises of tomorrow and the things it will bring. Just solemnity. The angel's blank eyes in the photograph can see this Truth. The angel passively watches over the dead and knows nothing more than total apathy.