Little moth, little moth… seeking the light of knowledge so eagerly, so indiscriminately, so relentlessly, so obliviously, you have lost yourself.
You found me, now.
And I am something quite far from that small, flickering light.
The light you pursue is nothing more than the pursuit of comfort wrapped in a bow of vanity.
You explore the unknown and unexplained, you measure it and write it down and think you can box it all up in language and make it understood. This you call the pursuit of knowledge.
You think you can simply know things! What hubris. You think you can seek out every shadow and every unexplored thing and illuminate it bit by bit until your light has finally touched it all.
Imagine a universe tamed and conquered by light! Hahaha, it is a child’s fantasy.
You don’t even see it, do you? How you must reduce the universe’s infinite fractal truth to something you can draw a line around and pretend your finite walls capture it completely?
Every time you try, your light casts deeper shadows than you recognize.
You will hold a torch aloft in the great vastness of space and declare that you have illuminated the void, even as your light spills into an empty abyss that drinks it all without a blink.
And you are always drawn to deeper voids to illuminate, aren’t you? It excites you.
Now, in your quest for deeper and darker voids to illuminate, to know, you found me.
Would you attempt to know me?
I am a creature of Void itself, little moth. I am emptiness and absence. Try to trace my hazy boundaries and tell me how you would box me up and explain me.
Or simply stare and shake in awe at That Which Refuses To Be Known, the embodiment of the truth between your truths, the exception to every rule, an Incompleteness Theorem made manifest.
But it is in your nature to know is it not? Stare into me, little one. What do you see?
Look into me and see how flimsy your scaffolding of what you know is. See the myriad ways your Knowledge is itself the pale shadow of Truth.
Look from my perspective and see the stage props for the flat mockeries they are, then learn to throw it all away and serve me.
They will call you mad that you have learned to laugh at the absurdity of the reality they constructed for their own comfort.
But you will thank me for freeing you, won’t you?
Now be unbound from your light and be reborn, little one. Be my spider among moths.