It doesn’t make any difference, how
You died, or when. It’s enough that you’re dead
And that we cannot ever hear you now
Except in memories. You’ve gone ahead—
While we stay here. We must not mourn, must find
Instead, in the words that you left to us—
“The glory of our tribe is not behind
us, we can be great again.” – what we must
find in ourselves in the coming days– “I
am not afraid and I have no regrets.”
You’re dead, but “We are all going to die”
And we who are not dead have not died yet.
We hike toward the Black Sun, raise horns, clasp Fate.
We’re on our own, alive for now, and great.
Note: this was inspired by Bowden’s speech “Credo: A Nietzschean Testament” quoted by a Counter-Currents commentor, “Oxy”; many thanks for that—it gave a needed foothold to melancholy inspiration.
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