The Future is Now

I wonder which generation will be the one who realizes they should not or will not procreate, that the human race, the species called homo sapiens (the man who knows, the ape who speaks?), will have the ultimate self-realization that it is over.

It is over.

There is no turning back.

All your ancestors brought you to this destination and all they could say in the end was, sorry but you had it coming.

 

This is the world we live in.

 

This is the uncertainty that thrives among the gallant and populates the brains of a few. If we were to go on, it would be despite all the things that man gets away with, profligates, perpetuates, with no concern for the consequences to their children’s children’s children. Who will  be the first generation to know what it means to ration water?

The ‘unthinkable’ will become de rigeuer. Yet, you continue to shield your mind from the reality of the situation and actually brag about having five kids, like this was 100 years ago and a man was judged by his number of heirs, and a woman, her fecundity.

 

Now, we have too many people and not enough work. We’ve evolved to the point where a certain percentage of people have nothing to do and are in effect leaches. Then there are the slaves and the overlords. The rest of us are vying for some sort of identity in between.

 

And yet, so few of us ever see what we are in terms of the planet that bore us. The earth that surrounds us, the atmosphere we take for granted, that is the reason we can breathe, and water we are made up of, when will it no longer be?

 

Time is a constant, you are the impermanent, ever-changing force of destruction. By nature, mankind is a destructive force, show me otherwise. You have to fight to create, in this world mankind has made with its worship of money and false accolades of greatness to those who attract on the most primal level, not those who have evolved the human capacity for understanding, advancing and preserving anything worthwhile. Those people are often forgotten in a slew of has-been after-thoughts bemoaning a certain time and place where their art actually meant something a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

 

There is no way to slow down in a world turning this fast, with nothing to sustain the soul.

 

 

 

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waiting for the end of the world

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