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Leibestod
Death is the limit, the only candle among shadows and shadow among candles. Love and death are inseparable because their hearts beat with a nostalgia for annihilation. "I'm dead, I'm dead" "I am beyond life and death" This is what the lovers say. To be dead within life means to pulse with its wave-tremors. To be beyond life and death means exactly this: to become the lightning stroke, the thunderstorm that pours over arid lands. As violet skies, as rain, as volcanoes know neither life nor death. To be a pulsing intensity moving acorss the deserts and the jungles. Love is the mirror of life reflecting its opposite, terrifyingly, ecstatically. It is mortality burning with its own will towards eternal existence, towards a being at home in all things in the world. Undifferentiation. Love is weak if it hinges on denying death. Death, if held, like a violet, envigorates, maddens, intensifies, burns the paltry human shell to leave a desparate creature in its wake. As we hunt life, we are joyous to find death at every corner, destroying us, making us cry, tearing apart the ground on which we built our lives.