A history book in the hands of a learned man is no different than the crystal ball in the palms of a fortune teller.

Such is the painful lesson is war, that in life those that lay lead dead on the battlefield could not see the bond in one another and killed each other. Sharing the same womb of the earth in extinction as brothers share the same womb from they took existence. Made to be brothers in death simply because they could not see the brotherhood they shared in life.

The world became a less lonely place when one acquires the ability to recognize there is more wisdom to be gained from the long deep silences of in the company of ones soul, than in shallow conversation with others.

Power is but a mere stage and nothing more, in which a man puts on display not a character, but the nature of his own character, the very nakedness of a man’s soul for all the world to see.

I used to think this world was a gift from our ancestors, a possession that we may bend to our will to our liking. That was what I used to think. The older I get however the nature of relationship changed, man and this world is not of ownership. What is often mistaken as a gift from those who come before, is rather a temporary loan from those who have yet to come, our descendants. Man does not own, merely charged with the duty to keep it and take care of it, the only say he has in the matter is what kind of world he will hand back.

I have known no two words more dangerous together than “What if?”. How something so simple, so feeble a question will destroy a man, in attempting to answer what may prove unanswerable it will enslave him to the past. Those invisible chain will confine him while time in its slow unstoppable march carries the world forward. Left behind, alone chained he wastes away in that prison of his own making.

They speak of a god who created a man in his image, I cannot speak of the veracity of that statement. However man since his appearance shapes and continues to shape the world in his own likeness, it reflective of both the cruelties and gentilities so inflict his character. Man the sculptor and the earth his sculpture.

Most of humanities, our species history was a struggle was against the climate, simply trying to survive the elements, to carve our societies, to tame this this world and make it ours. Yet now the greatest challenge of our time, will be the struggle to save the very same climate that killed our ancestors. Tragically ironic isn’t it?

While the fool only dreams of finding peace in leaving this world, the wise finds peace while living in it.

The religious tomes speak of a god creating man in his own image. I cannot speak of the veracity of that for its matter of faith and not facts. However what I do know is that man and his kind has and continues to, shape this world in his own reflecting both the great cruelties and compassion that resides within him.