The Logos: The Meletic Testament (Chapter 18 The Passing)
Lorient Montaner
đź“ś Chapter 18: The Passing
1. The morning was quiet and attentive, as if nature itself had come to pay respects to Asterion on his day of death.
2. Asterion sat in his chair, eyes closed, and his breath shallow than before. It was uniquely memorable.
3. The olive trees that stood outside swayed gently, casting long shadows across the floor of his room. He was staying at my home, so that I could care for him.
4. I remained beside him, not as a mere student of a great philosopher, but as an adapted son of his.
5. He had spoken little in the way of substance in those final days, yet his presence was louder than ever.
6. Let the world continue, I have already stepped aside to make my peace with my soul—he told me.
7. His hands trembled, his voice faded, but his gaze remained—clear and unwavering. I admired his courage and the acceptance of his death.
8. There was no evident fear in him that I could perceive, only the acceptance of the release of the body.
9. He did not cling to life like a desperate person fearing the arrival of death, nor did he flee from it.
10. He met it as he had met every truth that he had known—with open eyes and a quiet heart.
11. I placed my hand upon his to comfort in his hour of need, and he opened his eyes one last time to see me.
12. They did not search for meaning in mine—they simply looked at me with the expression of a man preparing himself for his final journey.
13. And in that unique gaze, I felt the passing of someone that fate had brought and was then taking.
14. His breath slowed gradually by the minute, then paused as he took in the last breaths of his life.
15. There was no struggle from him to be seen, no grasping—only the stillness shown with his awareness of his ultimate fate.
16. The kind of stillness and awareness that comes after a long life lived without regret.
17. I did not cry out of respect for his dying wishes—not then, nor did I demonstrate my sorrow before his presence.
18. I remained beside him as a loyal companion, as he had once remained beside me in my suffering.
19. The room held a certain silence that was not empty, but full of inspiration that would live on in me for decades.
20. Full of memory, of meaning and of a quiet farewell to a man who had revolutionised a world.
21. Asterion was not destined for the tales of immortality. He was a not a god or one in flesh to be revered.
22. He was not a divine prophet who came to save or warn the world, nor a hero carved in marble stone.
23. He was nothing more than a mortal man—of flesh, of breath, of bones, and of quiet strength, amidst the greatest adversity man could face as a mortal.
24. He walked amongst us without grandeur, and yet he changed the course of philosophy with Meleticism.
25. He did not seek disciples or apostles in his life, only people who could understand him, and dared to question him.
26. He did not preach his philosophy as above others, he merely converted it into practicality.
27. His wisdom was not the raging thunder of the heaven above—it was the essence of pure rain that falls naturally.
28. Gentle as well as persistent, but nourishing in its teaching and in its knowledge.
29. He taught us not what to think, but how to listen closely to our mind, body and soul in unity.
30. Not how to conquer life, but how to walk beside the world that surrounded us daily.
31. He gave us the philosophy of Meleticism—not as a doctrine to impose, but as a direction to be lead and to lead others.
32. A way of living that honoured silence, questioned certainty, and embraced imperfection in a man, teaching him how to value his virtues.
33. He was not a perfect man nor beyond any man. He never claimed to be a messiah.
34. He made mistakes like other men in life, but he welcomed them as lessons to learn and build from those mistakes.
35. Thus, he loved, he lost, he wept and he laughed with others, just like other men do in life.
36. And through it all, he remained honest and humble as a man, who gave up all that was his material wealth for his principles and philosophy.
37. That was his greatness in life—not in the brilliance that men tout as superiority, but in his integrity.
38. He never once sought absolute power of the ego, but only the humble presence of the self.
39. He lived as he taught: simply, attentively, courageously. He knew that was not only a philosopher, but a messenger of To Ena.
40. And in doing so, he became more than a philosopher in name—he became a mirror for others to see their own reflection.
41. I remember him not merely as a sage, but as a teacher and companion. Like Socrates, he sought virtue in men than vice in them.
42. I remember him not only as a master, but as a man who dared to live his questions freely.
43. His death would not be an end or a cessation, but a continuation of his memory and the release of his body, soul and Ousia.
44. He taught us to believe that Meleticism lives not only in memory, but in the thought that we are no longer burdened after death.
45. In the way we speak with our wisdom, in the way we listen and the way we remain aware.
46. Thus, I carry him with me—not in memory alone, but in my thoughts expressed.
47. In every moment, I choose silence and awareness over noise and chaos that arises from others.
48. In every question I ask, I do without the fear of being silenced or punished for my belief.
49. In every truth I honour the value of life, even when it hurts to admit it that I am wrong at times.
50. Asterion may be gone in body, but his legacy remains. And he remains in universal existence, through the Logos and ultimately with To Ena.
51. But the path he walked in life, thus remains not aloof, but visible and rewarding.
52. And I walk it still daily, knowing that he was indeed the last greatest philosophers that did not bend to power or corruption.
53. His philosophy was not as a banner to be waved, but as a breath to be shared in quiet understanding.
54. I did not seek followers to echo his words, but companions willing to walk beside the questions he once posed.
55. Those who joined me were not drawn by certainty, but by the gentle inspiration to dwell in wonder and discover the path of enlightenment. He once told me that enlightenment was for more rewarding than eternal salvation.
56. They came not to be taught, but to be reminded of what they already carried within.
57. In their eyes I saw the same hunger I once carried—the longing not for answers, but for honesty.
58. The garden of thought we tended grew slowly, without spectacle, nourished by patience and presence.
59. Each student brought their own soil of knowledge—their own stories, wounds, and hopes—and Meleticism welcomed them all.
60. Asterion had taught us that the truth wears many faces, and so we did not demand sameness, only sincerity.
61. Some people arrived with the fire in their hearts, others with silence in their bones, and all were received without judgement.
62. For Meleticism does not ask who you were, only who you are becoming in this moment in time.
63. We did not recite doctrines or chant verses; we remembered, we reflected, and we remained in unity.
64. We did not debate to win, but dwelt together in the fertile space between opposing thoughts.
65. I often wondered what Asterion would say to these new seekers, but more often I wondered what he would ask them.
66. His questions lingered longer than his answers, like the echoes that shape the silence they leave behind.
67. That was his ultimate gift—not the brilliance of his conclusions, but the courage he gave us to remain unfinished in our knowledge.
68. He did not give us a map, but a guidance, and trusted us to find our own way through the fog of uncertainty.
69. The city around us changed, as cities always do, with new voices rising and old ones fading.
70. Loud philosophies emerged, sharp with certainty and eager to conquer the minds of the young, but they failed to evoke the wisdom of Asterion.
71. The Cynics and sceptics mocked our quiet ways, called us irrelevant in a world that worships modernity.
72. But we did not answer their noise with noise, for Meleticism is not defence—it is depth in wisdom.
73. And depth in wisdom does not need to shout; it listens, it waits and it endures with reflection.
74. I was tempted once to argue, to prove our worth in the arena of ideas, but I remembered Asterion’s words.
75. —Let them speak their words in public. Let us remain with wisdom; for they are no threat to our will.
76. So I remained—not as a proud warrior, but as a proud witness to the quiet power of presence.
77. Students asked me, if Meleticism would survive the tides of time and the storms of opinion.
78. I told them it already had, for survival is not measured in numbers, but in moments.
79. In the way one listens to others without interruption, or pauses before casting judgment.
80. In the way one forgives without condition, or chooses silence over the theatre of spectacle.
81. That is Meleticism—not a path to be imitated, but a lasting philosophy to be lived and experienced.
82. I wrote little at first, for Asterion believed the written word could freeze thought and trap it in permanence if not explored. After his death had transpired weeks after, I began to write about his philosophical teachings.
83. So I spoke when I could, and when I could not speak, I sat in silence with those fellow companions who needed it.
84. When I could not sit, I walked amongst the olive trees, and when I could not walk, I listened.
85. For listening, he taught me, is the first act of philosophy and the last act of wisdom expressed.
86. The young ones often asked for rules to guide them, and I gave them questions instead to make them ponder.
87. They asked for structure, and I offered space; they asked for certainty, and I gave them awareness.
88. And in that awareness, they found themselves—not as they had been told to be, but as they truly were.
89. Meleticism does not promise peace, but it invites honesty, and honesty is often uncomfortable.
90. But being real, as the breath one takes, Asterion taught, is the only soil in which truth can grow as evidence.
91. I saw other philosopher grow old, as all philosophers must, and I began to sense that they were a dying breed.
92. I would find myself without my teacher, but my will remained steady, for I had lived Meletically—not perfectly, but wisely.
93. I saw students become guardians of Meleticism, and questions passed like torches from hand to hand.
94. I saw silence honoured in places where noise once reigned, and I knew Asterion’s way would not die.
95. Because it was never his alone—it belonged to all who dared to dwell in the quiet nature of his philosophy.
96. I did not name immediate successors, for Meleticism does not crown—it cultivates. I delayed that action.
97. I did not build monuments to our philosophy, but planted seeds in the minds of those who listened.
98. And those seeds grew in distant places I would never see, in hearts I would never meet.
99. I remember Asterion’s final breath taken—not as a farewell, but as the passing of his wisdom.
100. And I was to be the one to carry that wisdom, and I carried it, and now I pass it unto others.
101. To you, the reader of these words, thinker of your own thoughts, companion of the Meletic path.
102. Do not follow blindly in the path of uncertainty, but to walk beside the questions that shape your life.
103. Do not repeat what we have said or shared, but to rediscover what we have given to you.
104. Do not glorify Asterion as a divine man of a god, but to wonder with him about life. For the greatest wonder not miracle that is given to one is life itself.
105. Meleticism is not mine to give—it is yours to choose to follow its path with wisdom.
106. It asks nothing but your presence, and offers nothing but your inner truth to be revealed by you.
107. And in that exchange, it lives—not in written scrolls or places of worship, but in the breath between words.
108. I do not fear death now, for I have seen it, sat beside it, and learnt from its quiet teachings.
109. Death, too, is a teacher—it reminds us to live gently, speak kindly, and listen deeply to our souls.
110. I shall one day pass soon, as all men do, and my breath will pause, and my voice will fade.
111. But Meleticism will remain—in gardens, in circles and in questions whispered beneath the stars.
112. Asterion was a mortal man, like me and you, and you are a breath of thought and feeling.
113. And that should be enough, for Meleticism does not require greatness—only sincerity in one's heart.
114. So walk gently through your days, speak slowly when you must, and listen fully when you can.
115. Question bravely, forgive freely, and remain quietly in the presence of what is true. Never be complacent with what you know, or was told. Question your belief and discover its truth.
116. That is the way of the truth. That is the way that Asterion taught his students and others.
117. That is the challenge for many people, to walk the path of Meleticism instead of faith.
118. That is the inheritance—not of Asterion, not of mine, but of all who choose to walk this path and journey with courage.
119. I leave behind not only scrolls to bind your thoughts, and know that his death was not in vain.
120. I leave something greater which is: a path, a breath and a question—to you—Have you discovered your ultimate truth?
121. I have watched the seasons turn, each one softer than the last, and I have come to understand that wisdom does not grow louder with age—it grows quieter.
122. The older I became, the less I needed to speak, for the silence between words had become my truest companion.
123. I no longer sought to be understood, only to be present, and in that presence I found a kind of peace that no philosophy could promise.
124. The students who would come to me in later years would not ask for mere teachings—they would asked for understanding.
125. They would sit with me beneath the olive trees, where Asterion once walked, and we let the wind do the talking.
126. I told them that Meleticism is not a path to follow, but a way to walk, and each step must be chosen with care.
127. They asked me what Asterion was like, and I said—He was like the morning—gentle, clear, and quietly necessary.
128. He was not a man of spectacle, but of substance, and his greatness lay not in what he said, but in how he lived.
129. Asterion did not seek immortality, and that is why his legacy endures—not in marble, but in memory.
130. He was a man of mortality, of breath, of quiet conviction, and he gave the world Meleticism not as a gift, but as a question.
131. I remember his laughter, soft and rare, like rain in summer, and I remember his silence, which taught me more than any written scroll.
132. He was not perfect, and he never pretended to be—he stumbled, he doubted, he wept, and he loved. He once told me that perfection can never be achieved by man, only its illusion.
133. And in those moments, he showed us that wisdom is not the absence of weakness, but the courage to live with it.
134. I have tried to live as he did—not by imitating him, but by honouring the wisdom he carried.
135. When I have failed at something, I remember that Meleticism does not measure one's failure—it measures effort, and I still have not given up in my message.
136. And in the philosophical depth of that message that I spread with my voice, I have found inner peace.
137. The world has changed around me, grown louder, faster, more certain—and yet, the questions remain.
138. They wait in the quiet corners of the soul, untouched by time, and it is there that Meleticism still lives.
139. I have seen students become teachers, and teachers become philosophers, and I have seen the flame passed without ceremony.
140. For Meleticism does not need ceremonies—it needs readiness and awareness to be practised.
141. And readiness and awareness both are not linked to an actual moment—they are linked to a way of being.
142. I have watched the olive trees grow taller, their roots deepening as mine have weakened with weariness.
143. I no longer walked the distance as I once did, but I still lived, and living is enough for me.
144. I remember the whole sequence that occurred before his death and after, as if he was yesterday.
145. He was too weak to be much on his feet. Thus, he sat in a chair I had brought for him, for his needs.
146. The day was beautiful outside, and as was his habit during his days spent at my home, he would stare outside.
147. There were days when he would ask me to take him to the grove or to the garden that was near my home.
148. On this occasion that was his last day spent on the earth, he spoke to me about
death and the Ousia.
149. —Death is only a shadow of life. When we see only its darkness, then we are clueless of the light that lies beyond the darkness.
150. I was eager to know more of his vision shared—Tell me about his vision of yours.
151. —The light that I speak of is similar to the light of the sun. I speak of the light of To Ena. That which is emitted from its emanation.
152. Will I be able to see that light when he comes?—I asked Asterion, hoping to hear one last display of his wisdom.
153. —You will, if you look closely, but this light will not radiate for long. Honour it, as you honour me.
154. —And what of the Ousia? Will it leave your body like the soul and return to where it came from?'
155. —It will. The Ousia will be released like the soul. They no longer will dwell in the body.
156. And with that, he took his last breath, before I has placed him on the bed, thinking it would be more comforting to the body as solace.
157. When he finally died, as he had told me would occur. First, the skies had darkened, and from that darkness emerged his shadow, disappearing into the veil of the darkness.
158. It was then that the sun returned and with it its vibrant light. At first, the light had blinded me, but then it had allowed me to see it.
159. For a brief glimpse afterwards, I could perceive the presence of To Ena, the One.
160. I was not the only one to have see it briefly in the form of the light. The other students of Asterion who were present and were four did as well. They had formed the inner circle. Their names were Zagreus, Sosibios, Polybios and Thalia.
161. We were stunned by the occurrence and when we spoke about it, we thought about what Asterion had told us.
162. His body became stiff and his eyes which were wide opened, were closed one last time.
163. He would be then buried near the precious grove that he once cherished in life.
164. Each of us who witnessed not only his passing but the light that was of To Ena would speak of it in our remembrance of Asterion's philosophy and life.
165. I have walked through the episodes of grief, through failure, through love, and through silence.
166. And in each step, I have carried the his memory and asked the question: What does it mean to live wisely?
167. I have discovered that the answer to that question lies not only in my wisdom, but in the way of the truth.
168. That is enough to know what importance my wisdom has and the relevance of the truth.
169. That is Meleticism, the philosophy that I was taught by Asterion shall not fade into oblivion, as long as their are philosophers.
170. I shall pass soon one day, as all men must, and my breath will become part of the wind that moves these trees I seat under.
171. But the path will remain, and others will walk it, and the questions will continue.
172. Do not mourn me, for I have dwelt and lived well compared to others who have suffered more. Be a guardian to others, as to your self, body, mind and soul—said Asterion before his death.
173. He told me to not remember him for Meleticism, for he was not the point. He was only its messenger.
174. Remember the silence, the questions, the awareness, the way Asterioin smiled when he did not know, but persisted in his philosophy. He was never vain, and he conceded when did not know.
175. Remember that wisdom is not absolute certainty—it is courage to search beyond one's knowledge.
176. Remember that the truth is not one's gain or loss—it is the mirror of one's reflection of the self.
177. Remember that Meleticism is not a mere philosophy to follow—it is a way of being.
178. And that being, Ariston taught us daily in his words, is the greatest gift we shall ever have.
179. So I tell you, be present in your mind and soul, and be honest to your self and body.
180. Be gentle to others and yourself, and be brave amidst all adversities and struggles.
181. And when you are unsure, remain determined. For in remaining, you honour the path.
182. In remaining, you honour the man that was Asterion. In remaining, you honour yourself as well.
183. I leave you no answers that you cannot solve yourself. I leave you no map that you cannot trace on your own.
184. I leave you only this, which is the logos itself. A breath that is not eternal but lasting, as the word.
185. A question that is not unanswerable but solved. A silence that is not deafened but understood.
186. And a path that is not impossible but possible. Walk it as you are with the steps that you take.
187. Change it as you must, with the passing of seasons, and you will find your liberation.
188. Share it as you can with others, all the knowledge you have gained through his wisdom.
189. And when you reach the end of life as it stares into death, do not look back to see your shadow.
190. Look inwards into yourself instead. There, you will find what you are searching for.
191. Look gently into your heart first. There, you will grow with the seed of compassion.
192. Look honestly into your soul deeply. There, you will release your burdens and fears.
193. And if you find nothing, remain. Do not walk away. It is easy to walk away than to stay.
194. For that is where Meleticism begins in one's journey. It is the awareness to walk in silence amidst the noise.
195. Not in the knowing what will come, but in the dwelling within the presence of living.
196. And in that presence of life, you become aware of To Ena, and why you have chosen the path towards it as man who is enlightened.
197. Walk with the light with courage, as you walk you path. Do not fear it, but embrace it.
198. Know that your death is only a precursor to your return to that which gave you birth, To Ena.
199. Death is not the same as life. It takes one's breath, but it does not away the memory of one in the minds of others.
200. Thus, do not fear death, when its shadow will come one day. Know that the light of To Ena will come afterwards.
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