In my beginning is my end

Civilization is in the family, love is in the home, life is in the genes, freedom is in duty. And yet merely to remain at home, to follow your genes, to be obedient to your duty, is merely to dwell, to feel, to reproduce, and to hope. Which of you is satisfied with that? A man finds what he is looking for only after he abandons it. Only he who loses his life will find it, yea, there is not even time to bury your father. In a timeless universe, still, and complete, where nature and end are the same thing, there is no possibility, there is no need of a journey. But bloody Chaos and Old Night have severed phusis from telos. The higher things lie at the end of time, after a sacrifice, after a death. We go to bring back from beyond the grave, from the clutches of Pluto, the beauty that was torn from us, and restore the beauty to the broken form. Yet at the end of journey the beauty turns ghostly, our hands clutch empty air, and we go back to the beginning, an old heart heavy with sadness. But step over the threshold, what do you see? A mother in blue, and a mewling baby. Another hand, stronger than death, has brought back civilization, love, life, freedom, because greater than any of these things, and worthier of desire.