Irrational Focus

We spill out, like primordial ooze into the cracks and crevices of our differences. In every direction we spread, but our bulk stays together, driven from one gorge to another in time to an unseen beat. Our brief moments of thought, get locked into position, like dogs caught fighting over some insignificant morsel. We, who can create, long before we can understand, and yet understand so much less than we can know. A species lost between our origins and our destiny, but hardly ready for carrying our ultimate grace. Hopeful and hopeless, bright and dim, foolish and foolhardy, we keep traveling. Never to forget, that even in the darkest corners, we still need to stop, to think and to appreciate our essence.

If it wasn't for an entire absence of clues, most people would be somewhat aware of their environment, their place in it and the upcoming events that are gradually building up to bowl them over. But instead, they are lost in themselves, stuck on what they don't know, as they blunder onto the highway only to end up as more fresh roadkill, in a society of people competing for unique and novel ways to be flattened. That, it seems, is the ironic weakness of intelligence. It gives us just enough to think that we know more than we actually do; that we have more than we actually do; that we understand more than we actually do. And in this deception people get hopelessly caught flailing around like rapidly dying fish, flung out of the water while spasmodically trying to change things, convinced of their own rather doubtful superiority. But the joke is that most of the people, most of the time, in most places, have switched into some held-back mode were what they barely...