Sunday, December 27, 2015

The Human Illusion

Control.
What is that, really?

We stand on our tiptoes, ready to pounce on whoever or whatever attempts to threaten it in the slightest.

We pretend to own it, like fluid cash in our bank account.

That sacred cash of control,
That sacred green paper, full of important numbers that reveal our status and announce our importance to the world.

Control.
In our pockets, at arm’s reach.

An awkward moment with family over the holidays.
Reach in the pocket, Fix it.

A traffic jam on 440.
Reach in the pocket, Fix it.

A kindergartener being bullied by another, much bigger kindergartener.
Reach in the pocket, Fix it.

A violent war just outside our borders.
Reach in the pocket, Fix it.

Guns.
So. Many. Guns.
Hurting so many people, killing so many innocent families and children.
Each eager finger pulling the trigger to cast an even deeper bullet hole into the chest of the collective soul of the universe.
Loved ones lost, breath stolen for a cause unknown.
Reach in the pocket, Fix it.

Control.
The human illusion.

The cash that never truly fixes anything.
It’s just paper.

Nothing but green, dead paper.