The Delivery in anticlimatic

It falls shorter than the promise.

When I was young all my peers and role models were Gen X; passionate existential artists; fierce anti-establishment individualists- on a long path towards the celebration everyone’s unique vision and contribution. A truly progressive coalition of philosophical pioneers, set to stand upon all we had achieved as a species, and set to build upon it. There were secrets of nature, the cosmos, the human experience to unlock. So far had we come, and so ready were we to continue the journey in the spirits of our fathers…

The dream now, as it did once for those hippie fathers of yore, has passed and all but faded from memory. The western renaissance is rolled backwards, cannibalized. The zeitgeist passion for creation and the arts has been replaced with a passion for deconstruction and critical theory. Why build something new when tearing down something old is more celebrated and supported by the community?

Perhaps to make way for something better- more beautiful. Though it will be for another generation, as my brief tenure in this life will not have the time to grasp it. There is yet time, I suppose. And I suppose likewise that anything that happens is a necessary event. I am, however, a silly human being prone to idealistic fantasy and mental construct, and like most I presume I cannot help but compare my childish fantasies to reality and tiredly abide a deep disappointment with the all the unrealized potential around me.

Last updated July 07, 2020