The world has turned to a sad state of affairs.
Perversions are the order of the day,
Lives filtered through the lens of a lens with opinion and undue certainty mixed in.
Hardly a scrap of truth is recognized the world over anymore,
For truth has become objective views of certainty.
Evil is made the saviour, life itself disposable,
Especially those who are not real for they are unseen.
But words cannot be spoken such,
There is nothing of that to say, for choice is to be celebrated with no impediment to ambition.
Not even the choices and acts made by minds poisoned in modern wells.
The value of life itself has become secondary to that of currency.
In no world, real or imagined could this lead to anything but ruin.
A ruin of the mind, the body and the soul.
That nothing would escape the grasp of such a fickle tool as currency,
Where the value thereof can change on the whim of those who would see a percentage here, a deal there and only what they could attain for themselves.
Long gone and dead are the heroes and stories of old, where life and truth came before other things, where food was grown and harvested together.
Where hardships came to all and all came together to overcome that which would otherwise destroy them.
These once daily truths have become but figments of the popular imagination. Made to entertain and become but fiction, sold so that the slice of fiction could be seen to show an eager soul that such things could be good to watch alone before being sent back to being in a cycle of usury by any other name.
Perhaps the wars should begin anew to burn all things to ashes. So what might grow in place of what is, might for a time, be as cleaned as ash.