The Gate of Artemis

How doest it feel?

“How does it feel?
Ah how does it feel?
To be on your own,
With no direction home,
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone.”
Well, thanks Mr Zimmermann, I mean Bob, Mr Dylan, whatever. That’s exactly right. What a fitting question for the baby boomers, their cities without children, their homes filled with electronic gadgets and the broken glasses of their kaleidoscopical dreams.
But see, they are too fond of looking around for looking sake. Someone came, extended a helping hand, gave the direction, the map and a GPS system to find the destination. They smiled happily, gazed in joy, gasped in awe and … forgot about it. Parsival found the Grail, did not recognize and went ahead, went nowhere.
And while Chinese and Indian entrepreneurs grin broadly at the ascending charts of their stock exchanges, quite sheltered for the time being from existential angst, shall we, in the West, be the great generation of the greatest lost opportunity?
Shall we miss the cup of the Grail that was brought to our table and bury our heads deeper in sands to exorcise the looming loneliness? Indeed it was all about our heads.
Getting stone won’t do and there is no way out from here. It is getting dark, it is getting there. I know where it hurts and I know where to call. I know the number.
The holy cup that was the stuff of old legends has been brought down from the heavens.
It’s in your head, within your skull.
How would you feel tasting it?
I guess you guys will just go on singing.
But how will it feel?