DEATH NOTE

CORMAC Mc CARTHY:- One thing i won't give up is giving up.you give up the world line by line you become an accomplice to your own annihilation.there nothing you can do about everything you do closes a door somewhere ahead of you.finally there is only one door left.
I long for the darkness, I pray for the death real death and if i thought  in death i would meet the people i knew in my life.I don't know what i would do that would be the ultimate horror,the ultimate nightmare.If i thought i gonna meet my mother again  and start all of that all over only this time without prospect of death to look forward to, that would be the final nightmare,"kafka on the wheel"
            I want dead to be dead forever and i want to be one of them.Expect of course you  can't be one of them.you can't be one of them because that which has no existence can have no community.no community. My heart warms just thinking about it blackness,aloneness,silence,peace and all of it only a heartbeat away.
I don't regard my state of mind as some pessimistic view of the world.I regard it as the world itself.Evolution cannot avoid bringing intelligent life ultimately to an awareness of one thing and  one thing above all and  that one thing is futility.
             If people could see the world for what it truly is ,see their lives for what they truly are without dream and illusion I don't believe they could offer the first reason why they should not elect to die as soon as possible.
I don't believe in god ,look around can't you see the clamor and din of these torment has to be most pleasing to his hear.and I loathe this discussion the argument of the village atheist,whose single passion is to revile endlessly that which he denies the existence of in the first place.your god, your fellowship is fellowship of the pain and nothing more than that.and if that pain were collective instead of merely reiterative,the sheer weight of it would drag the world from wall of the universe and send it crashing and burning down through whatever night it might yet be capable of engendering until it was not even ash and brotherhood,justice eternal life  Good god, man.Show me religion that prepares one for nothingness,for death. That's the church i might enter.Yours prepare only for more life,for dreams and illusions and lies.Banish the fear of death from human hearts.... They wouldn't live a day.Who would want this nightmare but for the fear of next.The shadow of the axe hangs over every joy. Every roads ends in death,every friendship ,every love ,torment,loss ,betrayal,pain,suffering age,indignity,hideous lingering illness........and all of it with single conclusion.for you and every one  and every thing you have ever chosen to care for. That is the true brotherhood ,the true fellowship and everybody is a member for life.
   rage is really only for the good days.the truth is there's little of that left.The truth is the form i see have been slowly emptied out,they no longer have any content.They are shape's only, a train, a wall, a world ,a man.....a thing dangling in senseless articulation in howling void, no meaning to it's life,it's words.Why would i seek out the the company of such thing?why?.there is only hope of nothingness and i cling to these hope.

nowhereman: -you may be absolute true if life as the life you talk about is like this.But it is not, at least i have had the taste,i have cross the boundary.even i reached to the state of suicide,to the point where everything appear futile but i know now that was not the highest point of an awareness in fact it was just the beginning .I am still on the way towards it but i didn't jump into the river i changed the method.If you can die to this world,you can be so happy and in ecstasy.nothing bothers you,you live here as you are visitor to this planet earth,you live here as you are invisible.
but if your deciding to commit suicide you are not dying to this world you are dying to your own world which is going inside your head.you go on creating your"i" sometime sadist i,some time masochist i,some time dogmatise i, some time stubborn i,some time inferior i,some time superior i..........this i is nothing but a continuous thought which do not let you be in no mind state.This i go on begging it's food ,the more you feed it  the more it become hungry,become addict.
you could see all the form as they have no longer any content as they are shapes only but why can't  you see your mind without any content.people like you always go to the extreme of something and find out faulty as much as possible and traduce it , i tell  you the truth"opposite thing are always complementary" you go on saying there is one day between two night.If you have such vision indurate then no can change you.you go on blaming god and pronounce him with "he' why don't  you see the point that god is not the person sitting in heaven with 10 hands or 10 head for me god  is the very character of goodness and there is nothing called badness ,it is the name given to the absence of goodness.you become accomplice to your own annihilation .You go own saying whole world as illusion why you don't see that you are nothing but a part of it.May be the world is not the illusion but you are illusionist.
       you go on viewing other commuter from certain height without knowing that other are trying the same on you.
I view them as my fellow occupant as my own image.people may tell me that my father is my salvation well damn them.do i see myself in them ,yes i do and what i see sickness me.I see something of his in mine and i am lucky i can see it .As i see it i loose it from myself and rest which is in him and which is not inside mine ,my gratitude that shan't be never ever be inside me because i have seen it.
    seeing is something difference ,if you can see yourself in what you go on craving and  aversion than you become disidentified with yourself as you are now.you would know shadow of sorrow follows behind every joy,night comes in day's clothing,happiness is the disguise of misery.In my view the difference between rich and poor is that a rich can select his misery while poor are always bound to hook upon one.
sometime i like to go deep inside my head and bring about whatever there is and i bring out in the form of words.Words help me to give a logic,a logic to already exist desire.what difference between two person one with acquaintance of beautiful word and other illiterate both of them go on cutting animal throat just for the shake of their tongue is that one has accumulate the words and can defend  himself while other cannot.But inside both are same.
you go on declining everything and finally reach to a point which you cannot give up and cling to it so hardly that you may give your breathe away but you cannot let go your dogma.You prepare rather to loose your body but wish to cling to your mind.I don't know why? when you can let go whole world why just can't you let go your own mind ,mind creation  cannot lead you beyond mind.It is easy to race against other but what need courage is to race against yourself.
Truth was not that you have chosen the birth,truth will not be that you can lose it so easily.You may drown your body but that will be just an accident towards the preparation of another incident a new episode.
 I don't know why i am writing all this thing   i think now i should end with it before i get lost in my own words ,before i start to fall on my own abyssal.May be you are right in this case ,that all thing we believe is just a frail they won't  be long here neither will we,may be we go on saying something when there is nothing to say at all or may be there is so much to say that saying anything seem irrelevant.

who?

Oh! Who has picked these thorns for my heart? Who has spread these blossoms?

What bamboo’s music is this
every tone so rhythmic,
that life suddenly comes alive?
This song comes from what lips,
exploding in carefree melodies,
filled with the joy of uncounted streams?
What untouched blossom is this
that lines of black bees come zooming in
to collect its wine-like pollen?
Heart! Who has picked these thorns for my heart? Who has spread these blossoms?
What kind of mad thirst is this,
that has not learned to ask,
the joy of desiring nothing?
This strange, unknown hope,
loses itself, losing reason,
is its faith nourished in hopelessness?
What kind of lost bloom is this,
which comes seeking the early spring
becoming the heart’s rejoicing?
Ah! Who has picked these thorns for my heart? Who has spread these blossoms?
What live darkness is this,
which comes seeking me,
spontaneously igniting the flame of love?
Whose deaf dreams are these,

that listen to nothing else
that come floating always in my eyes?
What flame is this
that arose today to light,
the hundred lamps of love?
Tell me! Who has picked these thorns for my heart? Who has spread these blossoms?