We live in a cruel, sickeningly cruel era. In the midst of the parasitic protests for more for me, and the maddening mockery of "menos" for thee,
rays of hope shine, emanating albeit softly from those who advocate freedom,
goodness, and all of those other wonderful things more rare than gold on this present horizon.
This may be no more clearer to me when I reflect on my existence as a parent. For some reason this culture of death has not only forgone love for comfort, it is quick to seek out sources of cultivation and praise, and to target them for scrutiny and mockery. These things are funneled, isolated, anything but placed under the spotlight. For after all, a moment's consideration would let the resplendence of life and love outshine the notions of the nuclear family, ten year plans, early retirement, and the other catch phrases disguised to anesthetize the heart's cries of anguish as it thinks of chances squandered, thrown into the mire that will inevitably
mire the heart itself.
To that end, I must earnestly ask those traveling on life's road with me--are we ourselves ends in and of ourselves? Can we look back and call a life well-lived if it was set up to solely ensure the best scenario, a scenario that only placed the camera on the director himself?
Oh no, my friends. This will never satiate the human condition. We are all farmers,
the question is what are we planting into our field, and what will that do to the
earth and its other inhabitants--these other inhabitants whose very existence is
scorned and brushed aside for things like "me" time.
"Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies"
we build a house upon shimmering worthless lies......
My mathoms may not give the greatest yield if measured by annual returns,
but "wealth" is one fruit of the field, it must not let us spurn,
the truly cherished, valued things in life, that raise the poorest man's head
but tear until they are dead the rich who drown in their own strife.