Her
radiance illuminated the world. She was acquainted with literature, medicine,
science, and philosophy. She knew the purpose of life and existence. She spoke
with God. Boethius, Sartre, Descartes, Plato, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, and Schopenhauer:
she read them all decades ago and promptly forgot. She started life in naïve bliss,
like the rest of us, but pedantically studied the universe, pondering the
theological problem of pain for long hours into gloomy nights. Rising from
infant ignorance she climbed to the summits of knowledge and soared the heights
of wisdom, only to fall back full circle and plummet to her current resting
place. Her name is Ka, the setting sun.
Ka
would have a lot of important philosophical and scientific contributions to share
with us, if only she could remember them. One thing she does remember is that
there is a god, and lots of really smart people had lots of really good reasons
for thinking so. Settled with the conviction of her divine duty, she posts herself
up as an inexhaustible dispenser of catholic catechisms in obscure atheist
chatrooms. With expert dexterity she recalls passages of the bible condemning
homosexuality and lust. With anxious expectation and relish she warns
nonbelievers about hell.
A
pale streak of light trails in her wake, a whisper softly spoken. The only
object left illuminated by her presence. Absorbing the light of other celestial
bodies, the one called SophSpoken responds kindly to the last touch of her warm
rays on his lonely existence. With unmatched gallantry, he streaks across the sky like a shooting star, racing to assist in her
defense and restore glory to the guiding light of christianity. And so as the
earth continues to spin on its axis in defiance of the catholic church, with a
violent splash of red the sun will set on another pair of empty promises, leaving
not a memory or a trace.
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