How do I look on each tree and rock and worry for its lasting time in the world. Trees die. Rocks erode.
Yet non so quickly and so slow to recover as they do in the hands of Man.
We should not be so quick to squander. So quick to tear up that which took time beyond thought to create.
Yet we cannot dismiss the world we have created. How to strike a balance? Should we ever be pleased with the comfort we have created, while so much of time's work crumbles in the hands of thoughtless beasts, barely risen from the ground we came from.
How do we move on, holding the broken chains we've created? How do we mend the chain, and move with it again with all the destruction wrought against it? The progress of Man. The progress. Is it progress? How do we become more than meager folk of sword and superstition--for we are still--and become the enlightened, the informed, and then the doers of such great and magnificent thought? Do we just wallow in our petty day to day? Do we sit in our distraction and do nothing and beings fall heavily with no thought into the sights they have seen for centuries longer than we have had such fine thought.
It feels like a great weight, knowing the history of the world, then sitting unsure of how to bring more eyes to the past, to follow it, towards a distant, murky future.
I have been pondering my direction. How do I make my mark on the world, and yet leave none so bitter as cement, asphalt and steel. This history of the world is more than just we people, we humans. It is a world, so fragile, yet resilient against this blight that is us. I want to learn it and help in some way.
But how?
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