Averlaine's musings

No matter how the world changes, more stays the same. As we progress through the ages, basic human psychopathy remains unchanged. Touched only by flavours of the age, they stand against the eternal tide as steadfast as the sea and merely half as ragged.

Should only the eyes of the world sweep down each darkened corridor and brush past each shady corner, brilliant incandescence may disperse the darkness and bring illumination to an ancient world. Fear of the unknown underwrites the impetus of action to a trickle, reducing progress, but to what? Is this fear what arrests our momentum, turning inertia into our adversary? Or could it instead be the inexorable desire to retain links to the past, regardless of its placement within the spectrum of appeal, that stymies us? Perhaps there are twin pillars that block our egress from this modern age.

Retaining artefacts, physical or otherwise, does not disseminate events into positive or otherwise. With failing memory, we sensationalise or smooth the edges as the mood dictates to improve stories and prove ourselves the hero of our narrative. Some are simply filters we apply ourselves yet many are bound by the physical constraints of entropy.

Clinging so tightly to what is being ripped from our grasp as though, by allowing it to slip between our fingers, we lose some cosmic tug of war. In so doing, we fail our own present in unimaginable ways. Filled with hoarded memories, certain that this is where our personalities lie, our lives brim with regrets. Is this a true necessity of life?