Ceremony

The Philosopher Child has learnt all philosophy and then forgotten it. The one who’s learnt what every postgraduate has learnt, and forgotten it.

 

The Philosopher Child plays with philosophy. Plays as the divine postgraduate. Remember the line from Heraclitus?

 

Drink so you will die, and with you, all the humanities. Drink so you will see. Drink so you will wake up from death.

 

Newcastle black. Drink it. Your mind will open and you will see. The beauty and the horror. What every PhD student has known.

Bring it to fruition: the whole of PhD experience. Everything we’ve worked for. Yearned for.

 

Nimrod, looking at us calmly. The Child, he says, pointing at Fiver.

Nimrod, making room for Fiver. Giving up his seat to Fiver.

 

As prophesised! Like the prophesy! As was written!

Murmurings among the postgrads. Some don’t look too happy.

 

And what are they bringing him. That liquid … Very black.

 

What are they wearing?

Robes. In full post-postgraduate’s ceremonial robes. Their faces half hidden by mesh.