dream deep

Maybe this is the problem. We’ve gone too far away from what should matter, what should have been everything in the first place. We built our cities of concrete and suffocate the land and kill off all the trees and siphon off all the water to drown valleys of trees and dig mountains down to flat piles of earth. There is not enough of what should be there, we have killed off our own salvation. The wild places are disappearing, eaten up by themselves in desperation, in courage. And still we strut and play the ignorant, blissful fool, being sightless by choice. What will this come to, if not only an in-between of the eternal struggle for power among the ones that know the least? And what will all our riches come to, in the end?

This is the reason for the loneliness and hunger and poverty and pain and sickness. And yet we look at the cankerous spreads on ourselves, in our minds, in our hearts, and put the blame on too little commodity, too little material comfort, not enough being to be able to call ourselves our own person. We see all the therapists in the world, psychologists and brain doctors and heart doctors and gurus and spirit leaders and call on gods we’re never sure we believe in.

Oh, fickle-minded is the heart of man. We never want to blame ourselves, never want to be the bad side, never want to see the blatantly obvious loss. We bring up buildings to touch the moon and lay down tracks so we conquer every last piece of land. We drain the earth dry.

And I am only a fickle-minded fool, parroting well-worn facts, who still doesn’t completely know the inside of what it means to lose everything. What can we do but continue to fight against those of ourselves that present the cancer, and hope against hope, for the paradises of old and eternal dreams?

Would that I were a Maker of Worlds. And with each new sun I would fashion a new and beautiful world, strange and passionate in its trappings, and set it free like a bird. And make things raw and precious, as golden pearls under silver sea, and things no eye has seen before, dragon-fish and lizard-dog, or bird-man or sea-monster, with great and cavernously ancient eyes. And I would make Peoples such as none have seen, and people they would be and not be, for nothing like the Plight of Men will be upon them, and none will be their troubles, and none will be their fears, and they will live as the eagle and the lion, wild and peaceful and fierce and courageous. They will make for their own stories and songs, and give them to their children and their children’s children, and they will teach them to hunt and fight and take wildly but gently from the land, with full thanks. At the Rise of the moon they gather by thousands to dance for the land and the sea and the living sun, resting in her long sleep.

This was what was Intended from the very Start. And now the sea and sky have passed away, and the land dies from sorrow, and the sun is nothing but a ball of gas.