A conversation on the recognition of personal mortality and those that follow

  ‘Ah, so the days have worn away — and we meet again.’

            ‘Yes. It is as though we have been brought together so that we may remember when the world was young.’

            ‘Yes.’

            ‘It was fresher then. And you know it too. I can see it in your eyes. The future seemed, as they say, endless.’

            ‘And now?’

            ‘Closed. Except to the others.’

            ‘Who are the others?’

            ‘Those that follow us. Those that come behind in time.’

            ‘Have they become more knowledgeable, those others?’

            ‘No. There is no such thing as knowledge like that. It is simply always someone else’s turn. No one learns except in their own life. No knowledge is valuable except for that one life.’

            ‘And when the future of those others seems endless and ours does not, can we tell them anything of our discovery?’

            ‘No. They believe they have learned enough, and think they have answers sufficient for their needs.’

            ‘When does this change.’

            ‘When they realise, like us, that their days have worn away. And perhaps when they talk to someone, as I am talking to you, about how it feels to know this.’

            ‘And are we wiser?’

            ‘Probably, but only because we understand that things close — that there is a gate beyond which we may not pass.’

            ‘We are not wiser because we are more open?’

            ‘No. We are finished with the open. The open is discarded by wisdom. There is nothing of the open beyond the gate that we are approaching.’