A blank page. Yet, but no more. Words of my will or some other motive external to myself. And here my words fill the page to open a window. My thoughts. Guided or not. Thoughts of passage. From one era to the next. Humans no more? Humans we thought would always stay the same. The one thing we could count on . . . ourselves.
The long gaze into the abyss. Down which we view a dark history. A history of slow progress. The wheel. Governments. Farming. Expansion. To conquer. A moon. The computer. An internet; the nervous system of a planet. The very small. The very large. Progressing. Striving for more . . . to stay alive. Faster, faster! To know and discover more!
Our striving and surviving at the sake of anything, and all, have brought us to this day. A day with graves of all types of life eliminated in our wake. For our progress. Dodo birds, Tarpans, Woolly Mammoths, Saber tooth tigers, Neanderthals. On and on. We know not all those who are forever lost to progress a bipedal form. The only species retrospective enough to understand the expense. And the only species to cause such dramatic loss. The cost of our progress and striving.
But yet we the actors, given scripts written by mortals past and forces present. We play on dutifully forward. Our very thoughts and actions dictated by ancient causes greater than we. Free will. Who believes? To drink a cup of water or not. Free will? Or perhaps our smallest choices as involuntary as a blooming rose.
What is the cause and purpose? We are about to know. The road bending ahead. Behind us; As far as we can see. A long, slowly arcing traverse. Ahead, now the road turns sharply. For those of us willing to look. The turn ahead shrouded by terrain never meant to see. Few can speculate. And even fewer know.
Wave goodbye to what we knew. It is all changing. Forever gone like the dodo birds and the endless parade of purged species. The past is written; the future is a new memo. Dictated like these words on spotless pages. A future far spectacular than what we had ever known. Brilliant, glowing. Amazing. But costly. Not everyone or everything will survive. None can assuage. But those that do persist will understand the sacrifice. Those future words, when written will be as they had always been. On purpose. Like now. Who would say the present isn’t the way it should have been? We know the truth. It is like this for a reason. Yet we are misled by immediate crisis. New horizons imminent.
Wait, listen. Nearly there. Almost there. To live to see it . . . and we will.