The Path From Here
When man looks at the world and sees nothing but spoils to be conquered and divided and divided and spoiled, that all that lay before him is there to be reaped at his whim, how soon all that will be left is no more world to conquer. I sit here alone in the yard and think on these things, only to be struck by the fact that I am utterly not alone. Birds flit between the branches from tree to tree, silently gliding in the blue of the sky. Still others sing each their own song, unseen and yet still beautiful. Near my feet the ants march I know not to where along their way. The gold of a butterfly catches as she dances past. And how much more lies still unseen from my small view. Yet for how long have we lived that all of this is ours to subject and subdue simply because we can. How often I have looked at this life we have created of concrete and asphalt, steel beams and electrical lines, and wondered at all of the choices that brought us to live like this. And if this is really the best that we could do. We have chosen division. We have chosen to spoil and to reap. But we do not have to. The path from here need not continue in what brought us here. The question is what will we now choose.