Here We Go 'Round The Mulberry Bush
As the children's song goes, the falling is the best part. Noticing those who gather at the various watering holes reveals the "coincidence" of chance and in it's demonstration reveals the obvious - fresh meat is good for the grinder. Singing of their hopes and joys these wolves of ill repute hide in the skins of children, pretending that all is well in the Land of Oz. Gathering unto themselves the life energy of those who willingly depart with it, these wolves never become satiated. Feeding the beast is but relinquishing one's heart and soul either in naivety or fear but it really doesn't matter which because the root cause remains undisturbed.
Mesmerized by the lights, one can only stare in terror. Fleeing is neither an option nor a right. The cross-hairs are indeed trained upon the victim.
How is it that so many are so easily led to slaughter? How is it that the piece relishes the part? Taking it's turn upon the Board of Life and Living, the piece eventually becomes but a side-lined instrument of manipulation and deceit. Winning isn't all that it is cracked up to be; will this ever sink in? There are no winners when it comes to pieces. Only losers.
Power is neither bestowed nor granted unless one diminishes oneself and accepts the fool-hardy notion that one is nothing without another's acknowledgment of the right to exist. Leaving reality behind, the piece comes into existence, into an existence of being the subservient sharecropper of a lying and deceitful landowner. Is one to provide exchange for all eternity in order to full-fill a debt that has no basis in reality?
Living a lie, we tend to accept what we are told, what we are shown; but this illusion, by it's very nature, cannot endure. Refreshing the image, it continues to live and the Master endures safe in the knowledge that the slave is doomed yet again to spend another day in hell. Complacency is not a learned trait but an enforced one.
Sooner or later, we all fall down.