Human Condition

I mean, what there left to say, really?

There is always something beautiful -- or at the very least, resonant -- in the humanity of it all...hopeless dreams, imperfections, emotions, all of them vivid colors washing together in our simultaneously grand yet mundane existence.  But would you not say that there is something depressing, distressing, disturbing, even, about it too?  The "human condition" is something that at the same time unites us but also plagues us.  Who is not to say that it is not some disease, the sort that you would quarantine in fear of allowing it to spread and continue?  Maybe, it would not be so bad after all, to return to the seemingly repulsive sterility of an existence without all of these things.  For every dream reached there is one that is crushed, or perhaps worse, forgotten.  For every noble cause there may be an ignoble price to be paid.

Twisted desires warp our existences like so many thorny vines encircling what we once thought to be simple.  It is no longer a matter of right and wrong, good or bad, but of which disguise you choose to wear, which banner you use as a shield for your own chosen agendas.  The pure-hearted wishes drawing us closer to the surface scatter as we are jostled by the teeming swarms that have nowhere left to grow.  We are washed aside, the tides still frothing, reminding us that nothing can be held onto, not while our lungs still burn with addiction, not while our hearts still churn their ceaseless rhythms.

Sometimes you see the bright, clear line that traces from motive to means.  From beginning to end.  What, then?  Will you follow the march of inevitability?  Will you turn your back on the future?  Will you shut your eyes as you choose to live only in a moment?  There is no escape, only forwards, backwards, and perchance, the illusion of staying still.  Each choice bringing you closer and closer to the inevitable truth of it all.