118: No beginning and no end, in mid verse eternal, we have done what we are doing now forever, a cycle of the same: shitting, rutting, stealing, lying, rushing, breathing, crying, dying. Just as quick as we return to oblivion we are reborn with no escape, pushing boulders up mountains to only have those boulders roll down again, a endless trap of futile efforts, accomplishing nothing, falling forward into complete regeneration. Escape from this tedious droning is not found in probing moist places, the delirium of forever intoxication or the neurosis of cosmic salvation. Liberation from the endless is accomplished in nothing. All you can hope to be is king for a moment then die well. ‘The sun is new each day.’
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