AGAINST PROGRESS
We made worlds out of nothing--but that nothing was no vacancy or void, only our refuse, our mistaken detritus.
We made images in darkness and extinguished our only light to illuminate our empty tableaux.
We forgot we were imagining and so found everything presented to us, forced upon us. We thought we
We thought we were
We thought we were resisting.
We thought we could reject the ideas and embrace our own. We imagined a them, a they, an opposition, an oppressor.
And we did reject the idea, but forgot they were our own. We offered, instead, our own free will which was not our own. There was a they, a them, but we had forgotten who we were and so who they were and so we fought our self.
We are the gods we fight and love, we are the hidden quiet places where idols of forgotten thoughts lie broken amidst remembrances of ruin.
We are the desolation and the fool grass clinging to dry rocks, settlers of the waste, remembering now to forget the dead soil long enough to make it live.
When we remember, we will be certain we forgot. When we resist, we will be certain we are not.
