The portrait faces both inward and out. At first it is peering into the anthology of self, a collection of objects. Those that have been left behind, those that seek renewal towards uncompromising quiescence. The forces of then and the impending can too often feel like the plaster of life, holding everything together. But imagine story were secondary to the unmoved mover that brought all into existence at the very beginning of time. Climb into that abyss where time vanishes
as we forget past, future, all at once.

The outward gaze is where the danger begins. Where the depths of the abyss are turned inside out, creating a mountain that the worshipful shall revere; where those who endured darkness within, now return as a triumphant second coming. Countless times we have seen human history as it deferred to those who in acknowledgement of death accepted the unacceptable;
that destiny common to all living beings.


In acceptance of that fate they returned as übermensch, carrying with them the secrets of that seemingly fatal end. Yet far too many have taken its mantra as a way to further its own futile, earthly being. Far too few have been messengers of why there is no mountain to climb, no abyss to descend, and only the silence to endure.

In silence we finally find hymn. When the wailing of the childish mind feigns awakening, music turns to ashes and becomes a protector of vanity. Those vibrations that sequentially combine
as harmony and disharmony were once a reminder of that which brings life, as it beckons death. The power of hymn has been mistaken for a panacea of death, while death only lurks insofar that our desire is to prevent it. The time comes when silence endures and hymn ensues. But only a portrait can tell, as we
travel into that moment where inward faces out.