If a keening bell were to sound, could you bear to listen?

Hey! You! Get in here and shut the door.

Are we alone now? I want to ensure the communication between us is airtight. No leaks allowed. I’ve uncovered something top secret and it’s imperative that this information doesn’t get into the wrong hands. If it does, the delicate balance holding our society together could crumble. There’s a paper thin line that we’re edging along with certain death on all sides. A line that requires the balance of a ballerina, yet we’re stumbling down with all the grace of a drunken lout, swaying from side to side but somehow never falling. There are people who don’t want you to know what I know. Hell, there are people who don’t want me to know what I know. The truth though? The truth has a duty to make its way to the light and it’s my burden to be the harbinger of its overbearing weight.

How did I discover this? What are my sources? Evidence? Did anyone get hurt? Well sometimes you just have to dig with an understanding that you’ll be covered in dirt.

That’s enough pontificating. Enough rambling. These words must sound like the incessant ravings of a deluded madman. Paranoid? Why would I be paranoid if not for knowledge too grim to grasp? My teeth clench with the pain of my grimace. To trap my mouth shut and so keep these words from more delicate minds. But hark! The doomsday clock strikes midnight and the time has come to let loose tidings that ring so deafeningly of verity that anyone in earshot would be deaf to all else.

Are you ready?

Do you even know what is about to befall you? Steady yourselves, for I’ve known tenacious minds to slither loose of their tethers with but a hint of my ill portent. Those seemingly crafted of sterner stuff left nothing but waxy puddles after embracing the searing lashes of what I’m about to unleash. The rosy veil covering our sight blinds all to the stark nature of reality hiding behind its gossamer veneer. We dance along to strings so subtle we neither hear nor see them, let alone understand how surely they guide us towards oblivion. To cut them, oh to pull yourself free from this mortal dream risks separation anxiety so ferocious your body may nary survive the plucking. For how are we to hear white noise until someone guides our ears? How are we to notice the outlines until our nose is taught the scent of ink? How can we truly appreciate what life is until we understand that death is ever watching?

Child, the time has come for you to discover the truth hiding in plain sight, for it is not mine to obfuscate. Should you survive the shock, I’ll see you on the other side:

 

The Beatles band name is “BEATles”, not “BEETles”. Like the musical notes, not the insects. It’s a homonym.

Just thought you should know.

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One response to “If a keening bell were to sound, could you bear to listen?

  1. Pingback: You know, in rugby a try is the goal. | I have my doubts

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