To live and die The what and why Of life... Of death... Is the curse of consciousness Epicurus has been given a bum rap by historians. He was not the self indulgent Bacchus Wasted by the endless pursuit of physical excess. Rather a thoughtful one of us Trying to make sense of the mortal existence that is our wont; Dedicated to living without pain and with pleasure But in moderation. We are not playthings of the gods, But rather invisible to those forces of being That make up what we call life around us. We live in the hard reality of the physical world But we live also in the ether and mist that is our minds; We cannot measure love, or beauty, or compassion, or consciousness. The mist in the morning, The scent of wine The memory of a loved one's touch. Is the hope and feeling of getting outside oneself Into another.... in shared thought, shared experience... Just myth, just self delusion, indeed just fantasy? Perhaps... But perhaps it is more... Perhaps it is the evolution of consciousness The doorway through which we can pass Leading to the higher beings we can become. But... less exaltedly This type of living results in pleasure And reduces pain. Epicurus would be proud. RAD