Life metes out a gradual justice that we may not see. Not choreographed for one lifetime, not designed for you or me, but rather, for the planet or the universe. There’s no way to avoid it, circumvent it or rehearse. We’re a part of something larger even as we make mistakes as nature covers over the snafus mankind makes. Great men may be jaunty, swelled up with their great plan, but nature has more problems than looking after man. She has the heart of all within, seeing a scope broader than the needs of man or any other great marauder. There is just so much for any of us. When we grab for more, we can be pretty sure we may be headed out the door. What species will replace us, or how will we evolve if we don’t act quickly our problems to resolve? Even all technology is part of nature’s plan. Perhaps it’s written that robots will take the place of man. Micro chips for healing and mechanical hearts are only the beginning. They are only the starts. Species that overgraze domains bring about their endings. So it may be with us with all our diggings and our vendings. Machines poisoning our air and putting poisons on our shelves May only be the means of making more room for themselves!
As we’ve evolved from scales to skin, growing the body we’re now in, Did our mind grow here inside? How did our soul come to abide secure within this human form? How did it come to be the norm? Did words form here in you and me simply because they yearned to be? Were they put here to link us to that in the eternal stew that unites us all, in our unknowing to a universal glowing? And if so, what an irony as words transform and set us free, they also split us wide apart–– placing the head before the heart. Substituting a dollar sign for solutions that should be divine. Can this be our ultimate goal, in our journey toward our own black hole? To grow our mind and freeze our heart until it blows us all apart? As science seeks to understand, it holds us all within its hand. It has the means, if it should please, to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. I wonder, then, can even a soul escape the pull of a black hole?
I fear there’s a frustrating schism between progress and atavism. For though I’d like to best my folks, adding my genius to the yolks of eggs of the next generation, instead I feel great perturbation. I could improve the family genes, but fear that I have not the means. For though I’m sure I’m an improvement, our gene pool won’t see any movement. There is a sure futility regarding mutability. My evolution’s hit the skids. I forgot to have some kids!!!!
This was written to fulfill two prompts. The RDP daily prompt is atavism and Daily Addiction’s prompt is futile.