I Long For The Days
Coming and going, I long for the days when communication was like gold, ever looked for and greatly appreciated when received. I long for the times when lynch mobs killed themselves before they would kill another. Sometimes, death can be a long sought for friend.
I long for the days where one’s personal right, morals and ethics were individually chosen and regarded as such. The days when enforcement of those individual qualities upon another is not something I warmly remember. Ensuring individual freedom is not something that is highly regarded these days, oh how I miss the past!
When the days of survival began, the wolf packs grew larger and larger, preying upon other wolf packs for territory and food. I long for the days when survival instinct was looked upon as some silly thing to do when you get bored.
I long for the days when Games were played where everyone would become the winner and in a constant display of compassion many times the Games would become totally unpredictable, or so it would appear. Removing an individual from the Games was never contemplated and sometimes there would even be an exchange of players, each warmly welcomed as if for the first time.
I long for the times when listening was part of communication. Not listening to one’s own thoughts and ideas, but listening to what another is actually communicating. Placing another above your own thoughts, concepts and ideas is a time that truly deserves to rule. But I am nostalgic that way.
Running for freedom, the group bands together in common purpose, ever increasing the probability of survival. Somewhere along the way, the individual dies so that the group may live. Somewhere along the way, the group ensures the demise of other individuals and takes no heed to those not within it’s ranks. To survive, there can be no other.
The time of individual freedom continues to come to a close and in that time I long for the days when a spark of life was truly a marvel of creation. Unique, individual and the embodiment of love and compassion. I long for the days when the disgracing of life is no longer the ‘winning’ game to be played. I long for the future when one spark may perceive another and have no compulsion to kill it or even to force thinkingness upon it.
Life, in all of it’s glory, is just that. Why create something out of nothing?