Lay Low

Fallen.

As though from some lofty height.

Maybe not lofty, but aspirational.

Now covered in dust and grime;

In centuries of grudges and fanaticism.

Responses of all involved, unevolved.

Like childish pugilists squaring off, over antiquated, unsophisticated arguments.

We do not have the stomach for it anyway.

Our resolve is Rome in decline.

Privilege and technology, treasure and politics.

Our focus is fast crypto fortunes,

Fleeting social posts of staged moments,

And education without learning,

Only to form stamp a common image of how a real person might appear.

Goals require commitment.

Lifetimes of dedication.

An Eastern view laid out over a hundred generations.

What is your vision? What do you want to become?

But this crusade is laid prostrate by green crescents and other homeland symbols.

The revolving door of inept men who pretend principles;

Who try on purpose in the morning, only to shed it when they need to slumber or fundraise.

Bodies laid bare.

Lauded and mourned.

There are always bodies, and they are always young and brave, even when they are not.

Choose a frame, of time and reference.

They are interchangeable.

Ageless and repeated in myth, lore and legend.

By every culture and every civilization.

We are today's destroyer of worlds.

The eaters of all that lies before us.

Every father figure, every grandfather figure, a disappointment.

And so too are we.

Unable to live nuanced lives.

Unaware of our own default programming, that we too are a product of time and place.

Give me minds to break these cycles and rise above our biological consequence.