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A Key Without A Lock

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It sat in the midst of all that chaos – a single ancient key, probably not even fitted to any of the doors currently in place, but retained, as so much of our useless baggage is, “just in case.” A sad-looking thing – items that have lost their purpose or become obsolete are always sad to me – it still holds onto its form, an obstinate refusal to change or morph into something else. Maybe it will be left for those next in line, or maybe it will be thrown out. Some things serve their purpose, and, having done so, depart with grace and no further ado. Maybe someone will hang onto it, carrying it with them as they move somewhere new. It is possible to imbue something with meaning where none really exists. We are, after all, living in a material world. But that’s another story, one that has already been written, and one that will be written all over again. One day, beyond the scope of what most of us can imagine, this key will cease to exist.

Every once in a while I’ll have these thoughts. I’ll question everything I thought I knew, like I did in one of the first courses I ever took at college – an Introduction to Astronomy – when the professor presented us with galaxy upon galaxy, endlessly advancing, and I’ll feel so small and insignificant I momentarily fail to see the point of one more minute. But the moment passes, as does the minute, and then another, and my pondering is replaced by the mundane, the habitual, the continued ebb and flow of life, and I can forget the big questions once again, lulled by a false, yet honest, sense of reality.

Do not ask me what it’s all about. Do not force me into a philosophical conversation about what it all means. Do not even reference this post. I’ll laugh it off. I’ll joke it away. I’ll distill it into the mad ramblings of a moon-fed lunatic. We are all fools. Stay on the inside of the joke.

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