Not good, but better. Not perfect, but superior.

I hope for a world that is better than the one which I see. Not due to some misplaced idealism or a desire of something for myself, but because I look out into this world and see pieces clumped together, but never coalesce. These scattered things move and interact with each other but they never interplay, they never dream together, they never sing together, but I can nevertheless hear the music that could be.

 

Like an argument that refuses to be made or a lyric that never greets music, it saddens me in that its potential remains imaginary, its beauty a reverie never brought to reality. The worst part is the loneliness it inspires, as when you see how the pieces could paint a brilliant picture, it becomes impossible to see the shadow that exists. They don’t see how they could be beautiful together if they were just willing to actually be and work together. They would rather become entrapped in petty squabbles of the few versus the many and the many versus the few rather than move beyond their limited perspective on the neo-tribalism they’ve settled to call society.

 

People have forgotten what can be accomplished when they work together and when they love each other. They have forgotten how to love, interchanging it with physicality in the stead of reliability. How I wish for a world where love was not some imagined thing, a thing where one must first know another before loving another. This world does not anger me. I cannot be angered by the world that refuses to be what I wish it to be, lest I become a reinforcement of the hate and media machine it has become. It saddens me, dulls my hopes, obscures my vision. It is this numbing which angers me, as I know what I could see, what could be, but the persistent denial of the dream mocks the ability to perceive it.

 

I want to speak to the world, tell them what they could be and everything they ought to be. I want to love them and hold them. I want to be a part of them, and complete within them. I want this for them, as I do love them as though they are what they could be, despite their aimless attempts to run away from it. I am a part of them, even though until the ideal is realized, I worry I grow apart from them. Such a love I have for them that it pains me into hatred of the modern. I want so much more than anything the people of this world have thus aspired to be.

 

I want choirs to sing songs written by the greatest poets, and adventurers to venture where none have yet ventured. I want a peace that transcends nations. I want a world, not a nation. A humanity, not a population. I want the artificial divisions between us to reinforce the commonalities. I want us to build great things, tall things, smart things, powerful things. All sorts of things. I want us to aspire to things greater than I can imagine for this world. But most of all, I want us to believe that we can do these things only by loving and joining together. I want fear to be an enemy instead of a tool. I want manipulation to be unconvincing to the point of extinction. I want lies to sicken the speaker into truth and for theft to poison the thief into recompense, and the recompense prompt the victim into providing absolution. I want a world, not good, but better. Not perfect, but superior.