Our post-apocalyptic existence



 


The world as we know it already ended.

It did not came with the grinding halt of industry and the surge of Covid infections.

No those were just the more garish reminders that we are already living at the end of the line.

It came more subtly. It came when we became enamoured in the illussion that we can chart our individual destinies without looking at the bigger picture.

It came when we started looking at the earth as a machine, a resource that can be controled rather than as a nurturing mother that needs to be loved and respected.

It came when we looked on to visionary messiahs who will realize our visions of a prosperous world without getting our hands dirty in the work of building it.

There is no use in explaining away our sorrows. No sense in finding meaning in our misery. We can mourn. We can shed tears.  Let us do away with heroes, gods and saviors. Let us be content with the possibility that the pursuit of our dreams will forever be futile.

When the smoke settles, we can only hope that the swords have indeed been turned into plowshares.

We can only hope that a new dawn arises. A clean slate, a new beginning rises from the ashes of the former.

We can only hope that hope is finally realized and faith is now rendered obsolete.

We can only hope. We can only breathe. We can only open our eyes. One day at a time.