Imagine the combined wisdom of every notable ancient civilization, alphabetically categorized. History at your fingertips. AI and Wikipedia on steroids. Produced and published for your perusal in modern times, a tome condensed into a thick volume. It might be considered a grand achievement, but no one can say for sure who’s reading anything anymore. Anyway, it's impossible to understand the past without knowing the present. That’s what they tell us. A concise compendium of the world’s greatest minds in one voluminous text arranged, in summary, by well-ordered content. Is it any wonder why most humanity is still living somewhere in the past, wallowing in yesterday’s dark remnants? Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we were dwelling in a collective vacuum of ignorance.
Is forgetting the past better than navigating present times to find an easy solution later on? Inside the big book, searching for what, no one knows. Clueless, not knowing a damn thing at all except for who’s who in the hive mind's mad dash wiggly beeline toward tomorrow. A book for all reasons. Every mystery shall once again be revealed. The past can never die because it no longer exists. Except for random, hand-picked memories ripe for plucking. Choosing the favorites, like penny candy at the confectionery. There’s plenty of useless information thrown around about everything under the guise of importance in a dizzy world that can be found making the daily news rounds of the misinformed. A cheap combo from the dollar menu of collective amnesia for the starving brain-dead. There’s a growing population of zombified people who don’t know anything. It’s better than never believing what they’re told. Follow the party line down the thorny path. No book skills are necessary. It’s artificial wisdom at best.
We learn from bad examples. Happy accidents happen all the time. What will the new day reveal? Who knows how long the future will take to arrive? It’s over with a nod and a blink before it happens. Zing. You missed it. Hold tight to the promise of a better day in some unknown tomorrow. Arcane mythologies mixed with esoteric spiritual beliefs and traditions that rot on the grounds of losing rotten religion. Derelict duties of good Christians of faith in a state of sublime grace. It’s human nature to want to believe in gods or something similarly greater than us. It’s business as usual here in the holy scriptures of lost souls. They read what’s written and compare notes.
Thrown into a cardboard box of lost and found stuff that people unknowingly dropped or left behind accidentally. The burden’s too heavy to carry on, but we can bear false witness to the aftermath of having little to no faith in holy facts, much less gospel truth. This is where it gets tricky. It comes off as insincere and insults the intelligent design of knowing it all wrong. It’s the end result of how it all began in a short, sweet twist of the byline in between, long after the bygone. This sentiment has become the bane of existence for the makings of a mere book. For many, it’s too much to endure. Too little is overdue. It’s hard to follow and less likely to make any sense of reason. I’ve never had enough of the smart stuff in the book that follows you around like a lost child. Cute wordplay puppy to keep company with. The darling baby of your worst enemy. They say knowledge is power to the nth degree. Nobody knows what they mean when you say enough power is never enough. Control and fear drive the mind crazy. It creates a toxic world that has come to pass. A new generation in the quiet library of the same old trouble.
Unable to keep up with the latest trends in technology, we fake it. Rifling through pages of madness, skipping the good parts and reading the juicy bits and pieces in erotic details. The parts of the book where monsters and evil villains are the good guys. Some may call them gods. We’ve been hoodwinked into believing the hype and hypocrisy of the faceless evil empire big brother moneymakers with tiny brains. You’ve seen it before. A dollar in the basket for the poor, starving children. Perhaps you don’t read anything and just look at the pictures. Turning the pages like a schoolboy with a dirty magazine. Here's hoping you don’t get caught playing with yourself. It’s the only reason you can’t escape your own head. Every single thing that happens always happens first in your head. Nothing starts from the heart of matters. It was interesting reading the pages in the history of the unwritten story. You can scratch your head, gazing slack-jawed straight into the hellfire sun, drool a bit of spittle, and blink, waiting for the final chapter to catch up.