Shard is home to a collection of monologs, articles and social commentary by EON, child of Time, whose regard of humanity is scathing. It also hosts RANT HQ.

Breaking The Circles


‘He holds him with his glittering eye – The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years’ child.’ ~ THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER

If they are of the lasting and enduring kind, the type that makes a difference, navigators pay the price for their expeditions and journeys. Just like everyone else, navigators hurt and bleed. Navigators cry and lose hope. They lose their intensity and drive and energy, their willingness to keep pushing tested, their ability to negotiate a treacherous turn challenged.

But they recuperate and bounce back stronger than ever, if they are of the lasting and enduring kind.

And the process continues. Navigators reengage their surroundings with passion. They explode on the scene with the fearlessness inherent in total fixation. Navigators are obsessed with their journeys and will not be confined. Staying put is death to them. It’s worse than death. It’s stagnancy and stupor. Nothing tastes worse to a navigator than being stuck in a rut, in a life less explored, or a world driven by those going nowhere.

Navigators require new vistas for their lives to make sense.

Navigators need to lose sight of the shore for their shores to matter.

Navigators are willing to die on the road. They don’t worry about making it back safe and sound, saving little energy for their return journeys, if any at all.

Homecoming. The only reason navigators crave one is to tell their tales to others before they die. Simple as that, and beautiful. Navigators want to share their discoveries and experiences with the people they love and the people they despise and the people to whom they are indifferent.

Navigators want to bequeath their loved ones the magic experienced during their long journeys. They want to let the rest of the world know what it is missing, what wonders lie out there. Their need to share their tales is tantamount to their existence. The rime of the ancient mariner is not just a poem in their eyes. It’s a way of life, a calling, a rite of passage through which they go after each expedition.

It’s a fixation many people deem selfish. Rightly so. Navigators and explorers are the most selfish people in history, and thank goodness for it. Without them and their incurable obsessions, the world would be full of dwellers and denizens living in self-involved, inward-facing communities dancing around roaring fires, in carnivals that never end, going round in circles.

Going round in circles.

Intrigued? Watch this space for more.

From the collection of writings EON: THE ANGRY COMING OF AGE