Per ardua ad astra

Yesterday a renowned man passed on. Neil Armstrong's is a name we shall not soon forget, if ever. He was the first to walk on the Moon, and perhaps today we do not know what that means. It is rare to slip the surly bonds of Earth, and it was rarer, harder, deadlier when Armstrong did so. It was a dreadful, terrifying experience, and the threat of death haunted every minute of that incredible voyage. So let us not be sad. He piloted fighter-jets during the Korean War, walked on the Moon, taught others what he knew, and has carried that demarcation, that individuality, that glory, since then. Now he has died at the age of 82, having fulfilled a long, fruitful, benign life. His legend did not recede into the vanishing nothingness. He has died in the fullness of time, and now, as once long ago, he walks on another plane, separated from us, yet joined by our shared humanity. As we live today, let us think of Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the Moon.