When life is gone, what's left ?

Hunger, yes, alright, when life's gone hunger's left, but that's got no meaning. It's just an animal impulse. The quest for power, yes, that's left too, but that's no more than a silly game. A way for the empty to distract themselves from the whisper of the void within.

So what's left ? I'll tell you what's left. Art. Only art. In death as in life, art retains its power both to transcend and to offer transcendance. It creates meaning where there is none, and consumes us even as we consume it. It makes us whole. Makes us real.

That's why it's a sin to lose an artist, a truly great artist, to oblivion. That's why its our duty to offer them the embrace.

I truly believe that it is our ability to offer this gift that led to our creation. A human life is pitiably short, and most human lives are so pitiable that this itself is no bad thing. But to lose a Beethoven, a Shakespeare, a Dali to such a fate is unconscionable.

Of course, not all survive their deaths intact. Some awake to find that in their requiem they have lost their muse along with their heartbeat. It's tragic, but there it is. It happens. All we can do in these cases is to destroy the poor creatures and continue the search for candidates more worthy.

It can be a hard path, but it is one I walk willingly. And so my childer are scattered throughout the world, glittering like diamonds on black velvet long after their mortal spans have elapsed. They don't all thank me, but that's alright. I don't do it for thanks.

I do it for art.