Provident Son

Perhaps one day the warrior in man would die, and with him, the fighter, the wanderer, the wonderer, the explorer, the adventurer, the rover, the doer, and hoper. The days of the lonely ones, the walkers and seekers, would then be at an end. Men might then become, as many wished, as cattle and flowers, and be free to spend their days in placid grazing, until they died beneath the distant, burning, unsought suns.

But it was difficult to know what the mists of the morning would bring.

I contented myself with the thought the deeds had been done, which now, whether recollected or not, or however viewed, were irrevocably fixed in their fullness and truth in the fabric of eternity. They had been. Nothing, nothing ever, could change that. The meaning in history lies not in the future but in the moment. It is never anywhere but within our grasp. And if the history of man, terminated, should turn out to have been but a brief flicker in the midst of unnoticing oblivions let it at least have been worthy of the moment in which it burned. But perhaps it would prove to be a spark which would, in time, illuminate a universe.

It is difficult to know what the mists of the morning may bring.

Much depends upon what man is.

Much depends upon what he shall decide himself to be.

___________________

(Explorers of Gor 193-194)