You've got another thing coming

Every second, another bundle comes out of the womb. Which womb? The womb of the world, I should say. In the 21st century we proclaim to be at the pinnacle of human progress, at the heart of liberty, whence freedom is no longer a word but a reality, a solid, touchable reality, and that reality is an identity card.


We thought that now that so many aeons had passed, so many men had lived, so many had died, so much had been thought of and so much had been forgotten we would have reached the sky and the heightened ethers where we would have been snug in our comfortable reality. But I guess not. I guess that they are trying to pass off this moment as an age of enlightment, an age of reasoning, an age of understanding.


There were men who, long ago, believed that every man was free. They were naive and they were candid but they believed every man had the right to his own will. They believed that we were born by our own means and that we were free of our doing.


Not long ago, someone I knew, someone I didn't know that well and who didn't know me much now that I think of it, as a joke or as a truth, I will never fathom, told me that I had no future. He told me that I could never be able to achieve what I wanted to achieve and that I should rather give up now. I thought, rather naively or rightly, I can't quite remember, that if that is so I should rather drop on the spot. Was my existence worth living? Was I confined to these walls?
I thought and I still think that we had a right to our own dreams. But I also ask myself, why should we have dreams if we can't realise them?


I stumble and painfully walk home on a wet, pouring day of lashing rain. I walk the slope made by the hands of those who once had dreams. I see the walls of those who had once dreamt. I see the faces of those who still dream, so young, fresh and unscathed, but I can only see the heavy reality of fate looming over their soft heads.


It's as if the world was a competition. When you think of it, it kind of seems so: you were born a racer, born a dude with a tail, racing through the womb and hopefully jumping into that narrow gap. You first lived as a survivor, as a bunch of flesh who clung to life and to your mother with a rope hanging you on. You walked on four hands, prone to whatever life threw at you, because you didn't really care. All that mattered to you was how you should colour Mum and Dad's house, what a monkey looked like, if your fingers tasted good and what you were going to do of your day. You spent your days in leisure because you couldn't think of anything, anything at all, until one day, one day you learnt something that opened your eyes. You learnt that what surrounded you wasn't what you thought it was and since then you've been asking yourself questions that might or might never be answered, thought about doing things you had the will to do but you you didn't have the means.


Now we walk the streets marching on cold, humid and unhospitable ground, hotter than a thousand coals, colder than a thousand seas, wearing down your shoes more than a million times anything else ever could. They want to walk on us, they want to ride us like cattle, they want to bind us to what we see and not question reality, reality we are so accustomed to. We have the will, we have the hearts but we don't have the rights, because we're nothing but an economic subdivision, nothing than groups of individuals, masses of singular minds, dull-eyed cattle the way they see it.


They push us against each other, they make us programmed “individuals” just so that we could bounce off each other like electrons in an atom, making one whole, making something they could handle and recycle. They laughed at our projects, they envied our courage but they wanted what was right for them and not for the other mass of unworthy idiots.


What do I have to say to that person who tore me down? Nothing. I rarely forgive such errors, even human ones, but I do not wish to share with them the knowledge of the initiate, because I can see the future. I can see what I want, I have my eyes on my desire, I shall have it because even if there are forces that make us move like muppets, the stage is in total chaos and the spotlight is ripe to be taken.

Don't think I'll sit around as the world goes by...
Red