THE INFINITE PATIENCE OF THE WORLD

From where I live I cannot catch sight of the sky. The power and phone lines hold me back and tie me down from the grainy, gray smudge that steadily leaks poison onto the ground. I pass by more people in a day than the entire population of my hometown. But no one looks at each other. No one makes contact. No one even knows my name. As we walk past one another I cannot even focus on their features. They are jumbled, fuzzy, and blurred-- no emotions-- just empty husks shuffling through life. Hiding behind masks, their clothing emblazoned with the names of people they will never know. Hiding in their homes from dirt and grime, from real air, from each other. But mainly they’re just hiding from themselves.
It’s amazing how people feel safe in their homes, as if the plaster can truly hold back this diseased city. We cannot keep out the world. The world always finds a way back in. Through the bricks and concrete, the windows and screens, the chains and fences-- back into our minds. If you don’t believe that it is true, just try to go any length of time without dusting or sweeping. Go through your normal routine and see how long it takes the earth to creep back into your home. It usually happens in the corners at first. If left long enough, it will spread out and cover everything in the room. It doesn’t take long at all. In the struggle of man against the world, man will always loose. The world has infinite patience. Slowly creeping, slowly reclaiming. We are not the first species to dominate the world, and we will not be the last. We are but the blink of an eye to the life of this planet. I always have to laugh when I hear people say things like, “I create the world I live in,” or “I am in control of my life.” They’re not fooling anyone but themselves.