Volume XI, Issue II, Spring 2018
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2<br />
THE AGONIST<br />
A Sage Approaches<br />
A Creative Reinterpretation of The Madman, [125] GS.<br />
Alec Ontiveros<br />
[342]<br />
A Sage ApproachesThere I see it happening in the dark moonlight, just<br />
now as the sun begins to rise again from its valley, a sage solemnly walks into<br />
the town. Few remain awake—except for the thief and the jester commiserating<br />
with each other beneath the old clock tower—that garrulous relic of the golden<br />
age, built proud with its byzantine facade that only seemed to obscure its<br />
labyrinthine interior—that cold truth that time is bottomless and thus it is in all<br />
ways unbecoming. From the shadow of this truth emerges the sage, asking<br />
peacefully, “What is time? Do you know what is time?” As the jester did not<br />
long to know the hour any longer, for time is only confusion, it was confusion<br />
that wrang out, “Perhaps it is just past midnight, for I somehow feel the urge to<br />
do this all over again.” Through a sieve of reason, the thief aptly rhymes,<br />
“Morning sun, if midnight is past felt, the day is now dealt, your first conscious<br />
memory, will be time’s soliloquy, it is One.” Gleeful by the easiness of having<br />
believed a transvaluation occurred, the sage rests calmly next to the<br />
companions.<br />
“Why have you emerged from the night, do you not know that god is<br />
dead?” the jester cries out, unsettled by the cold brought by the sage’s arrival.<br />
“There are no morning sacraments for you to declare, all that is left to till from<br />
the earth is that which falls off, unrooted in its accelerating spin, for with no<br />
god any longer the earth is not fixed to itself, for nothing holds it back from<br />
accelerating to its end, for we have nothing left to confirm, you and your<br />
wisdom, perhaps, arrived too late,” the thief promptly chants. “Too late? I<br />
thought you said that time is One!” reflected the sage. “One?” the thief said, no<br />
longer hiding behind the guise of stolen phrases. For which the pride of the<br />
jester so gallantly emerged, “I have heard this statement before, that time is<br />
One, I have heard it so many different ways that I almost forgot what it means,<br />
the ‘new’ historicists used to say before the moment arrived when god was<br />
killed, the wise and the pious all agreed, that there was only one time, but now<br />
we know that to be an illocutionary fable, you surely have arrived far too late!”<br />
Immediately the statement vanished within itself for at that moment the<br />
clock bellowed as it called again the bells of midnight, and with it the thief and<br />
the jester began to kneel before the sage, for they too far strung from the