A Message For The Messenger
Of The Herald, and the presence of Gods in Human Form
He was not of this world, even as he walked upon it. He was a star fallen to earth, choosing to live as humans do, to know and think as they think. And when this purpose had been achieved, when he had found the answers to this humanity that he came seeking, his work was done. His time was fulfilled, and he left his earthly body to go back to his place amongst the stars from which he came.
He was the reason, still is the reason why I have always held on to such a passionate belief in the fate of the living universe. And I still, even after all of these years, hold such a painful loss for him; he had made his peace with his path in life long before it ever became clear to the rest of us. I envied that certainty, however tragic the ending of his story may have been.
This was the duality in the vibrancy of his life. He wanted so very much to live and experience a human life to its fullest, but he knew that to do so would mean its ending. Starstuff simply cannot burn without the fuel of the universe to fill it. And starstuff in a human body will only burn it out faster. This was his blessing, and also his curse. He was love embodied in a moment. He was strength when needed. There were those wonderful times that he could rally us all together in peace, despite our disparate branches within the Tribe. And then there were times when he could rally us as an army, taking weapons to the streets to protect the defenceless.
I remember the chaos. But I remember the wonder, too. I remember the sacred moments in our timeline that he spent only with me, the wisdom he shared, and the teachings of how I too someday would be just as important to the connective tissue of our wonderful Tribe. I remember hours spent perched behind him in his desk chair, the “Captain’s Chair” as he so lovingly called it, acting as his co captain as he prepared his music for the parties in the weekends ahead.
The last time we saw each other was the year before he died. We met at random at what was at the time Club Coalition, the third irritation of a club at this particular location. As we danced he passed the torch to me, there on the floor in the fray, in what I then somehow knew would be our final moments together.
He was most truly a herald, a messenger, a vehicle for our united passion. The passion united by the music, by the dance, by the collective heartbeat; by that feeling that we find inside of those perfect moments when we live them together.
One thing he often told me in our deeper conversations was that the only way to truly reset humanity, the only way to truly heal society, to heal our Tribe, was to burn it to the ground. Burn it all away and leave nothing but ashes, start fresh all over again. I used to chide him for this sentiment and could not understand the contradiction; how could someone who gave so much of his life and energy to this collective want so badly to see it destroyed?
It has taken me five years of his mortal absence to fully understand his words and his impact on me in passing; Without an end there can be no new beginnings. Without him to guide us, everything we had been before was destroyed, damaged, and we were now free to rise up again, ready to pass through it and build anew.