Thoughts Inspired by the Act of Sales Order Processing, 11:45am

The man who can fly; no-one tells him what to do. Only the flightless man is ruled.

But what of Icarus? Icarus did not expect to die. He expected to fly off and live out his life. He was laid low by the Sun, because Icarus himself was ruled, he was ruled by the Sun.

The Sun rules us all. The Sun rules those who claim to rule us. The Sun gave life to every living thing. It continues to sustain us. We owe it. Sun-worship is no longer fashionable amongst the Human tribe, but of all religions it makes the most sense; the Sun is a tangible thing, its godliness a matter of scientific fact. The Sun is not an abstract concept, or a philosophy. It exists, it made us. No-one requires faith in order to believe in the Sun. It is.

Look too long at the Sun and you go blind, your skin cracks, your wings melt. It strips you. No God invented of human mind can do those things. The Sun does not require the help of human agents. It can kill us by itself, if it so chooses. One day the Sun will burn and destroy the Earth.

Every morning the Sun rises in the east. It traverses the sky in full view of everyone and sets in the west. Neither the Christian God nor the primitive tribal Gods of other religions appear to us daily in the sky. They hide themselves away.

Perhaps this is why we no longer worship the Sun. We don't have to. The Sun doesn't care whether we worship it or not. It'll get us all in the end. There is no special hurry. Perhaps we invented God to give the Sun a human face, a face with a big white beard and a temper. The Sun does not have a face. Neither do oysters.

And what rules the Sun? Nothing rules the Sun. It rules itself. Arguably, time rules the Sun, but time is not a thing, it is a process. Human beings can only relate to things, not processes. It is not time that one fears as one grows old; it is the thing we are becoming, the failing body in which we are trapped.

Just gotta get out. Just gotta get right out of here.

I have written a poem. It goes "flower roses dewdrops, birdsong breezes clouds jelly trifle chocolate", in italics - because italics make text seem more poetic - and that's that. From now on this will be my mantra, the chant which will cure my imbalance and keep me.