It started bright and hot, burned and burned and I had thought with reverence, "Man is capable of great things". I harbored that bright flame of optimism. Funny, I've forgotten how it feels, and at one time it was so strong. You take a belief system and you think, how can I have thought that? You fail to comprehend the sorts of sentiments that stirred in your past self, as opposed to a comprehension of what if feels to be warm or cold, or to be in pain. Yes, the feeling is diminished but you can comprehend it. Maybe because a belief system is situated so complexly in those feelings, and to change it would be to alter a score of connections, while things like warmth and pain are simple and can be recalled as primitives.
That flame for humanity did burn, yes. And then over the years it started to die, until it barely flickered there, a cold blue little bulb of light, and I held my reverence for every living thing except man. Sometimes, it would catch a kindle and flare up, only to consume its fuel and die back down under those arctic blasts of disappointment. Those were bad times. As if I had been poisoned, I laid low to conserve energy.
It seems now that it may have the chance to flare up once again. In time. It may be premature to say so. But in this prickly cynicism I do find myself hiding a sort of hopeful excitement for things to come. I see flashes of it here and there, as if as an entity it is trying to stir and claim my attention.
And in between those moments of contempt in which I am asking, "Man, what are you and what have you done?" there are these other more rare moments of "Well, you've done beautiful things before, what can you do next?"
