The Tragic Question of Being: That Which Explains All Things Except Itself

Perhaps the most agonizing and tragic question of Being is that which is most unanswerable. By voicing the question, the uttered words become unmeaning—for it rests upon that one principle which is applicable to all finite matters, but not to itself. To those who have inferred the identity of the question, they need not ask it. For it is meaningless to ask. It is no different from one reaching into the sky with the hope of grabbing a fistful of air. To subject this aeterna veritas to the rack of intellectual inquiry would only wrench the inquisitor’s heart. Nevertheless, we can’t help but wonder at its mystery. We call out for an answer and are left with silence in reply.

For this very reason, I have refrained from explicitly raising the question. In fact, I have essentially performed an elaborate circumlocution around this immutable pillar of Being; orbiting around the question without coming into contact with the surface below. This immutable principle stretches its arms across boundless space and infinite time. If I were to break free from my orbit and take a chisel and mallet to this cornerstone of Being—coming down upon it with a mighty blow—the chisel would simply pass through the concrete behemoth as if it were nothing but a phantasm. For I have begged the ultimate question. The elusive shade remains untouched, unphased by the inquiring Subject; its essence cannot be grasped, its roots extend into the earth indefinitely.

The only solution is to pierce through this all-explaining principle with the trenchant knife of silence. The principle of all explanation is itself not subject to an explanation.