Cycles

Some of us last for a fraction of a second, making our impact on the world before vanishing into the nothingness from whence we came.

Some of us linger for centuries, millennia, epochs... 

Few of us remember the moment of our conception, the time when our essence was brought into being... whether that might be in the physical world or one of its shadowy echoes. Some claim that moment isn't important anyway, it's what you do with your time that matters. You might burn out in an explosive instant, or you might slowly impact the universe around you. Anyone connected to the physical plane has a finite time there...what they do with that time is up to them. 

We live, we die. Do we live again? Does something else use the energy of life which was formerly ours to fuel its existence? Is it constant? Is there a finite flowing continuum of life in the universe?

Life is filled with more questions than answers...

...and the same questions keep repeating. Often the answers are universal constants, sometimes they change. 

Some are happy doing what they do, with the little knowledge they need, and a faith that everything will continue in its patterns and cycles around them. Some deliberately avoid learning new things, fearful that new knowledge will disrupt their understanding. For others, the quest for knowledge drives their purpose. 

For some, that isn't enough.

If surface reality is a pond, everyone's existence makes ripples in it. Their movement through the material realm leaves a wake that impacts the lives of those around them. Even on passing into death, the final ripples keep spreading, getting smaller as they radiate from the final moments of an entity's being. 

Even the Aeons are bound by time. Anything linked to the physicality of time and space grows, matures, withers, and dies. The watchers may be eternal, but like moths drawn to a flame, they are drawn in from the darkness of infinite possibility... most long for existence and meaning, sacrificing an eternity of nothingness for a finite time where there might be a chance of meaning. Angels watch, as soon as they influence reality, the metaphysical ripples of space-time ensnare them like strands of a spider's web catching a fly. The instant they stop watching, an angel falls into the gravity of space-time. After the fall, these formerly infinite beings look for meaning in the world they now find themselves. Their own ripples impacting the reality they once observed. 

Most of us never knew an existence outside space-time, we only know of the watchers from the distorted recounted memories of the Aeons and their offspring. As much as they wanted to get in to experience reality, we yearn for the reverse...looking to transcend experience and reality. Somewhere between the two, the balance lies. 

There too lies the magic.