The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else. If it had been possible he would have settled the matter otherwise, and without bloodshed. He doesnāt boast of his own death or of othersā. But he does not repent. He suffers and keeps his mouth shut; if anything, others then exploit him, making him a myth, while he, the man worthy of esteem, was only a poor creature who reacted with dignity and courage in an event bigger than he was.
The vanishing point of entropy is itself an entity conscious - to the best of oneās limited abilities it can only be described as an opening into the light, a āwhite holeā or a null (Ć) shaped crack in the fabric of space and time. This open and inviting divinity seems to be the end of eternity and the beginning of its return at once. If you start to see this or know about this opening, trust that you have been had by the gods, and here one means āhadā in the sense of having been duped, for nothing that can be conveyed within the bounds of language is true. The vanishing point, like the horizon, by definition cannot be discerned, much less communicated.
What the vanishing point implies is the occurance of many crutches of the manifest. The many perils on the way can be just as transcendent, intermediate representations of the truth that appear while traversing it are just those - intermediate - the final level of truth resists all intermediate levels including language and this cannot be communicated only inferred from the various acts of being closer to it.