Good old Saint Christopher, patron saint of travelling salesmen and hobos, lost his head for sticking to his guns. He was immortalized as a martyr and lives in daily memory for millions in the form of good luck charms.
I never doubted the possibility of an afterlife. In fact I want one and am determined to immortalize myself one way or another. Surely immortality is the only goal worth shooting for.
I’ve attempted to transcend physical limitations through the use of magical roots and ceremonies. I recognized in early life that we all carry our death with us at all times. I tried to shake of my death throughout most of my life, but I haven’t completed my education yet and the knack of eluding death has always escaped me.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dead peoples dust. I’ve seen friends come and go (perhaps into the afterlife, perhaps not) and I’m gradually coming to accept that I may not achieve immortality after all. I smoke, I drink (and other unspeakable things) If my body is a temple it’s a sprawling derelict temple with broken idols and reliefs of forgotten gods and demons. My temple is haunted by the ghosts of departed companions and acquaintances – some only half remembered. “Qui vivra verra”
So much for immortality – I’ll settle for longevity. Not that I intend to do very much to achieve it. I think I’ll reach a grand old age through sheer force of will and remaining flexible in my outlook. So if I must embrace paganism in order to survive you won’t find me losing my head over it.