An Open Letter to Humanity

[enter Antigone and Ismene]

Antigone: we begin in the dark/and birth is the death of us

Antigone (tr by Anne Carson)

The brilliant darkness is the origin of All. And so, it begins.

They Wept, and the tears They shed formed the oceans that swell/They Bled, and the blood They spilled curdled into earth that rolls/They Raged, and the bones They shattered plunged wild mountains into Their boiling blood/They Fought(or did They dance?) and cleaved valleys in Their tears and Their blood.

And so, and so, and so - sic mundus creatus est - thus, I was Apart, held fast within the Constellations I had formed with my own Thoughts.

I saw the world as it was made and felt as though I were a blank slate, ready to be marred. I observed and saw no point to its existence. I still do not. But I am glad it happened, for this world is illuminating, if nothing else. And how illuminating it is!

Oh, how bright is the life that burns here; how quickly doth the flame spark and spread. Onward and upward…unchanging in its complexity. The nuance of this new world weaves ‘round itself like spiders’ silk; strong, tenacious, and delicate. I cannot help but watch, enraptured, at the tiny lives that flitter about, as graceful and doomed as leaves in the cold end of the world’s cycle around its star. Dead and dead and dead and, inevitably, there is life, anew.

Sing of folly/sing of love/sing of fight/sing and sing and sing again: there does not need to be a point, my love. They that gave Their bodies for this world -- this odd, beautiful, bloody world -- expected nothing from you, but for you to live. And live, you shall. You are full of all that I am, for I am Mnemosyne; I was in the Here-Before and I will continue into the Onward-After.

Forever sing and weep and sing again/forever write and lay pigments to paper until your fingers work no more and settle, dead, into dust/pluck delicate cords or breathe life into pipes so the notes fly high above you/dance until the movements drain the life from your bones/and, oh, my darlings, breathe and love and live -

There is no point or purpose to the existence of this world, this remnant of bodies long passed, and you are free (and what freedom it is!) to bleed and rage and weep and fight - or dance - as you will

I only ask that you live, for I am here -

Always here, forever here -

In dreams and in awakening, in death and in birth, in silence and in the roar of a thousand thousand voices. I am here -

Forever and ever and ever -

Amongst the space between stars and in the molten core of the earth. Always, I am here, and never can I die.

Death is nothing but a soft whisper between souls. Dark and soft and harsh as any ocean; beautiful and loud and ceaselessly moving. But it cannot - does not - touch me, for I am Mnemosyne

I am Memory.

Memory, Memoria, Mémoire, Gednächtis, пам’ять, Geheugen, 記憶, ذاكرة, μνήμη, זיכרון, All and All and All

Memento vivere, memento respirare, memento amare - remember, and worry not; when you are no more, I will carry the story of your life in My hands, forever. So carry on, I say; carry on and keep carrying on until your soul is called to its home - inside the arms of Eternal Memory, always.