Conflict Resolution

The blade of the knife that cuts to the heart of what humanity can be, our potential, is the relevant knowledge of what we’re not. Street by street, house by house, I’m forced to concede our reality. Still, that’s not the end of it. No. For every bit of depravity I must admit, there’s a bit of beauty to appreciate.

Regarding the question of the end, the inexorable approach of the disintegrating wall of ice and the brewing conflagration, how can I possibly stay resolute? It’s a terrifying nightmare proposal, our world, one that would have shocked even the most imaginative writers of our past, and elicited eye-rolls from the rest. Passions run high and there’s so much to burn, but humanity does not run on impulse alone.

Denial is a powerful tool, but a deadly foe. We’re at the heart of inertia, hoping that no one will enable our movement. BUT, no, I deny that conjecture’s simplicity. Look out the window and the world floats smoothly by. Expand your presence, take to the world we’ve bound together with zeroes and ones, and you’ll see that there are so many more currents than the wind in the air.

Will the world end in fire or in ice? Will we flounder in our potential and drift beneath the viscous ooze of mediocrity and death? It’s impossible to say. As we shelter beneath the rags of ourselves, wary of the competing divinities that seek our worship, we realize the rags are a cloak and that we’ve always stood fastest, and done best, in conflict. When all the world’s a storm, we quiet the forces by bending, allowing one to impose on the other. Greater storms than ever a monolith could stand are weathered by saplings. Don’t give up.


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