I once read about one of eight universal principles.
It was the beginning of an end of placing humanity above all ideologies.
Where there is a cause, there is also an effect,
And the pendulum has to traject.
The slower I get older,
The quicker the world turns backwards,
Swinging with momentum for every action present.
There is loneliness to this psyche-understanding…
Where people are flawed to foresee an aftermath with every opinionated action.
Personal aftershocks of a life-lived trauma,
Painting a fabrication, woe with a hint of truth.
The dangers are withnessed many times.
Undercover by a silence to not upset the collective hivemind.
When a world is angry at the wrongs as to why people take their own lives…
A righteousness of self is born.
One that screams “We need to do something!”
While aloof that one partook in contribution.
A whole lifetime would go by before such topics could be deciphered,
Or even become known by that same person.
We pendulum swing thousands of years of hatred and death, and swing the other way for freedom.
We go beyond escape and create a hundred genders in the wake of opinion.
Gods have followers, and followers follow.
The entry bar to godhood will cost you an email and a password,
And for the keys to the kingdom, big brothers are born.
Living behind the squares and rectangle-stills of our platforms,
As we whisper the words of personal matter triumphant in legitimacy towards influential following.
We kill before we even will ever know we have killed.
And before it can even has a chance to be riddled, big brother has exiled me as racist,
And the idea that this game could bear anything else but that of clarity and concision towards the importance of language itself…
Would fall as an absurd, labelled myth.
The transaction then ends with punishment and remnants of fuel for a fire no society can put out.
Oh the irony runs thick in this metaphor.