No, everything is not Permitted, even if there is no G-d.

t     h     e     v     a     s     t     c     a     n     v     a     s     o     f     b     l     u     e     s     k     i     e     s
       .  .-.-=-.                                      _.-.-=-. .-=.'"=.-=.               ~                              !  

  ( OPPRESS   )   .'    \&/     'suffocate-=_=-'    with reminders of               BEING   tossed

to~          )) )

     a'nd       )                                                     :above:

            ~fro)                                         B              from the
   '-"-=="                                    ~            l           . consecraitons .         .                                           u               into

                       ~                                                                                                 hu                   transforms                                                
                                              blazon                   twilight                          signals                     of

                 sensational  @@@@@@@@@  entrance             bla           that

      ^^       ^^              @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ ~              gluh!              o           Nada! nadada!
                              @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@              ^^              h
   ~  in  the                @@@@@@@@@@Ω@@@@@@@@@                            c
 ~~~~ ~~ ~~~~~ ~~~"and the giver of golden coats relinquishes its orange flares"~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~                                           E                              
 ~    undercurrent  ~~ ~ ~    vacuous   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~       ~~     ~~ ~                             a
   ~      ~~      ~~ ~~ ~~  ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~  ~     ~~~    ~ ~~~ resound~ ~~
   ~  ~~     ~         ~      ~~~~~~  ~~ ~~~       ~~ ~ ~~  ~'nd\o/~ ~
 ~  ~       ~ ~      ~           ~~ ~~~~~~  ~      ~~  ~rise     ~~~     ~~
       ~             ~        ~      ~      ~~ Prayers           

 of   a    g r e a t o c e a n i c w a v e~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~~ ~~~  ~

The vast canvas of blue skies oppress and suffocate with reminders of being tossed to and fro in the undercurrent of a great oceanic wave. Prayers rise and resound a vacuous echo that transform into consecrations from the above: Blubhublagluh! and the giver of golden coats relinquishes its orange flares, a sensational blazon signaling the entrance of the twilight. The name of things ring hollow next to the chaotic monuments of geometry--in the puffy coil of a cloud and in the seeming randomness of a curl in a wave. Nada! nada! can be heard faintly from some unknown place.

The universe tends to communicate whatever message you'd like to extract from its leaves, trees, and automobiles. Things tends to get muffled in between; the act of translation and decoding has always been a delicate matter, and I tread softly over the relics of the past seemingly alive in the present.

I reflected on this matter over some coffee at a local shop. I froze my gaze upon a palm tree swaying in the breeze. The prelude was set, and the silence accentuated an intense emotion behind my composure:

I felt like crying. My eye's filled to the brim with moisture. I felt tired and weak and stupid and frail and like the biggest fool in the world. I beat myself up over and over that I feel ashamed to tell you about it here, none of it was healthy for my mind or the universe. It was absurd, the existence of humanity--a comedic reflection of defiance against the indifference of a vast multiverse.

For a brief moment, the wonder of a young man--an embodiment of power, rationale, and passion (or lack thereof)--realized that at any moment he is easily thrown about like a rag doll torn to pieces in a social whirlwind that invade and overwhelm the fibers of his consciousness on a day to day basis, and like the majesty of movement in a lion's pounce and bite, his mind is ripped to shreds.


I felt at that instant like a fanatic and wanted to jump up and down like a jack-in-the box. In fact, the very fact of me feeling in that manner illustrated the mechanical nature in my existence. I was a mere object under the illusion of a conscious subjectivity that had been set in motion ever since man sat around fire and planted crops. This thought heightened my melancholia into laughter and stupidity. My tears subsided and I felt like part of the crowd, sipping my iced coffee at a kaffeklatsch where no one was invited and the only guest was myself and my foolishness.

"If God does not exists, everything is permitted" -a popular translation of Dostoevsky's line in The Brother's Karamazov