There’s nowhere for me to turn. There’s no course I can chart that comes with an endpoint. Even if I did find a harbor, I fear no one would offer me safe haven if I asked. I am completely alone in all this primordial ooze.
And yet, I don’t feel lonely. Why is that?
Nothing is sticking in the old world anymore. We’ve exhausted all our options and tried everything we possibly could. The tactics the people once fell for are now being questioned at an alarming rate. And the powers that be can’t stand that it’s happening. They’ve sailed through life without a care in the world because they know the next move in order to stay on top. What I hope is happening is they’ve run out of third and fourth moves ahead, and they’re now just living incident to incident. It’ll get so overwhelming that there will be nowhere left for them to flee. The Hell they’ve created will end up swallowing them whole, sending them back to whatever depths they came from.
All of it is inevitable. You can see the signals from space at this point. And there’s a lingering stillness in the air which I fear is the eye of the storm. We have to batten down for one final shit-monsoon before we can emerge squeaky clean on the other side.
At least that’s what I hope. I’ve been wrong before, it seems. I have trouble telling what’s real and what’s not these days. And I don’t think I’m alone in feeling that. It all seems so futile, so unrelatable and weird, having to watch things unfold as they happen with no one who can turn the wheel and get us back on course.
It’s looking more and more like the only ones who can steer us toward the promised land are the people themselves. We won’t be truly free if we’re allowing others to make our choices for us. Unfortunately, I think that’s happening more than it’s not these days. And I just don’t know if it’s going to last forever. Usually I make hopeful predictions about the future but I’m pulling the brakes on that and instead finding comfort where I’m forced to tread water.
Either way, the end is coming soon. And I think if I felt lonely as I stand at the ship’s bow, then we’d be in trouble. It’s not that way. I’m just letting the spray of the sea wash over me, until the fog clears and I finally see land again. It’ll happen as long as I fix a position on my compass. I don’t have to have a plan. How can I when absolutely anything is possible in current year 2021?