176 § Poetry, Language, Thought
Earth is the building bearer, nourishing with its fruits, tending water and rock, plant and animal.
When we say earth, we are already thinking of the other three along with it by way of the simple oneness of the four.
The sky is the sun's path, the course of the moon, the glitter of the stars, the year's seasons, the light and dusk of day, the gloom and glow of night, the clemency and inclemency of the weather, the drifting clouds and blue depth of the ether.
When we say sky, we are already thinking of the other three along with it by way of the simple oneness of the four.
The divinities are the beckoning messengers of the godhead. Out of the hidden sway of the divinities the god emerges as what he is, which removes him from any comparison with beings that are present.
When we speak of the divinities, we are already thinking of the other three along with them by way of the simple oneness of the four.
The mortals are human beings. They are called mortals because they can die. To die means to be capable of death as death. Only man dies. The animal perishes. It has death neither ahead of itself nor behind it. Death is the shrine of Nothing, that is, of that which in every respect is never something that merely exists, but which nevertheless presences, even as the mystery of Being itself. As the shrine of Nothing, death harbors within itself the presencing of Being. As the shrine of Nothing, death is the shelter of Being. We now call mortals mortals—not because their earthly life comes to an end, but because they are capable of death as death. Mortals are who they are, as mortals, present in the shelter of Being. They are the presencing relation to Being as Being.
Metaphysics, by contrast, thinks of man as animal, as a living being. Even when ratio pervades animalitas, man's being remains defined by life and life-experience. Rational living beings must first become mortals.