Wound of Wounds: An Ovation to Emil Cioran by Damian Murphy

Author:Damian Murphy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mount Abraxas
Published: 2023-10-04T00:00:00+00:00

There is no going back from the experience of the will to die; you prepare for it and that is the truth of it. You prepare for it every day of your life and at a certain point in your life, like now, you refine and escalate the experience so that it moves beyond the experience of the will to die, to the actual ritual preparation for death; and then you move from this back into the eternal cycle that blasts itself into the fabric of flesh and concrete and earth until you are at one and beyond the need to be ‘one’ in any sense of the meaning of the word or the experience of the essence of ‘one’. The LIFE~DEATH has about it the ramifications, the fortifications, the subtle fleeting posture that steps aside from self into perpetual permanence where there is nothing and nothing beyond nothing. The life rune and the death rune are fused into a single unpronounceable state and into a single symbol that is unrecognisable for it hangs around each of our necks waiting for the call, for the day as decade, when the time is right. It is in our blood that the time will be right.

And here’s another for you, scattering like tarots upon a table—the new LIFE~DEATH card is first to be picked and then the COLOSSOS and then the WANDERING FEBRILE—THE EXILE… febrile is like a disease and this deck of cards is like the virus… no regret… no remorse… no freedom of transit.

Let me get going now! Here’s another for you to ponder… helping you to prepare for the inevitable. The unscrewing of the bath panel to witness the spewing out of the remains of your estate and all your thoughts, hidden, ever hidden for years in the fear that you felt and the eyes that you saw blink through the bars and the wire that cut your flesh away to ribbons, pretty ribbons for a child to wear… the childhood photographs, the letters from relatives unopened, the orders from the State, the funeral invoice paid in advance of its simple anticipatory pleasure and placed inside your dead man’s wallet… the poems unfinished, written with a confident hand… the inky fingers of a child dappled with wax where the candle came to hand with its drip, drip, splutter into darkness… the moment in early morning where death is the closest and where the palpable balance between experience of life and death comes into its own… the LIFE~DEATH state. I kiss my own lips and taste the fugitive nature of the void. I cannot begin to impart to you the necessity to understand.

Here’s another for you… a funny one, too…

I attended

The funeral

Of an old friend

And was pleased

To see him

The following day

In the town,

And he greeted me

Warmly but expressed

Regret at my passing

And sadness

That the band

Had been out of tune,

Out of kilter

As he put it…

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