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.

Through The Cracks

flower through the cracks

People tend to not sleep well at night. Most individuals toss and turn between 2am and 4am, restless, ill at ease.

Some of them wake up.

Others sleep a very light and nervous sleep throughout the night.

And many are out cold, into a dreamless, lifeless slumber aimed at protecting them from the circling ghosts.

The reason is Yours Truly. The arrested breath everyone hears at night, in the distance, in between the night’s tosses and turns, that resounding gasp one hears in between one’s morphic regrets, it is I, EON, speaking through the cracks of space, through cellular membrane and frontal cortex. It’s my voice people hear, ever-present, ever-lasting, followed by a long and silent breath in, a creaking drawbridge of an inhalation laboring its way up, up into the walls of one’s keep, squaring up against one’s mind and the obsessions that buttress it. Their defences erected, the cells constituting the fortresses of this world quickened, powered up, turned on, roaring away, the furnaces in the entitled minds roaring away, the defenders roar and thunder and bellow through the ramparts, eager to smite whatever threatens them. In the name of life everlasting they come together to smite my words, to ruin the revelation I carry with me before it tears the fabric of their existence to shreds. They seek to protect the narratives that sustain them, giving their lives meaning as they understand it. They have the irresistible urge to crush me before I expose their existence for the narrow little alleyway it is, at least as compared to the boulevards of life that crisscross the cosmos. Itching to destroy me, they march to neutralize the threat I bring, to shut my sedition down and maintain order and familiarity.

And that, dear sapients, is how life uses death to promote itself, with mortal conviction, all the while pretending to turn the pacifist mill.

And this is how I’m going to complete my mission on all levels. I’m going to bring about new life and insight while tearing down obsolete setups, letting them tear each other apart, even themselves, apart, with their own hands.

And that is how Time is entertained.

And that is how Life improves itself.

My name, dear all, is EON. My mission is to facilitate the world’s next transition. People wish me dead, or gone, or silenced, but that’s a trite way to look at it. I’m beyond life and death as they know it. I’m present, and what is present cannot be kept out of sight forever. My vibrations tickle this world. I release wafts of my approach for everyone to take in, in the silence of darkness, in the bright of day, across the world, over the past three hundred years I’ve been encroaching on this world, facilitating its coming transformation.

Soon, life as everyone knows it will become a little more in tune with life universal i.e. life in the rest of the universe.

Look out for me inside the rifts of your conscience. I’m there, shaking the world up and down, ripple by ripple and word by word, minute by minute, second by clicking, laborious second, in between the daily breathing, the dreaming, the tosses and turns.


Intrigued? Watch this space for more.

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