ThRenody for Kali Yuga

Bruised, battered, base- Mankind takes inventory, held breaths between up & coming conflicts like choirs of children biting their tongue, zooming in on a stubbed toe before inspecting the damage & totaling the bill.

And all that's found, dear reader, is canned laughter.

Perhaps to fully comprehend the severity of the issue, it behooves you to imagine that same child again, happy-go-lucky tot of either gender, fresh to life & well adjusted as these things go, more than willing to jump into the Game. Forget about helmets or kneepads, even a proper copy of the rules-OUR little critter can't be bothered with trifles like discretion, not with Big Beautiful World waiting with arms out, rain puddles placid, trees unclimbed & not least of all- toys not played with.

But flash forward several years & our same precautious tyke is a tad older, not necessarily wiser but more seasoned in the way of Things; slightly shaken, straw colored hair mussed up & so forth, holding jaw & maybe rethinking taking such a big 2nd bite out of the proverbial apple. Still, after reflecting, capacities rearmed & maps redrawn with borders originally assumed insurmountable extended & abbreviated alike, our strapping lad charges back into the fray, confident now he has a measure on Things, wilderness charted with no more unpleasant surprises waiting.

We watch our young buck march bravely on, maintaining an impressive batting average while valiantly fighting off the twists & turns of his path with a smile on his face & song in his heart. Yet observe reader how, after enough time has passed, that grin falters, weight shifting without warning to either side of a glowing countenance like the playground see-saw: up down, up down back & forth over & over & over again. Notice how his step goes too, at first faultless, forging on ahead in a straight line as if no obstacle, anthill nor pothole, can drive those boots astray. Stumbling off course malfunctioning movements too subtle to detect before becoming too glaring to ignore, clubfooted kicks shooting up great clouds of dirt.

The confident smirk has departed, replaced by an expression rawer to our gaze, uncertain & downright apprehensive, fearful even. Great sagging bags appear under formerly bright blue peepers, purplish & pregnant looking, adding years to a youthful mug.

Finally a last jaunt, picking up to find our man in question out for the count, in bed with the sheet clutched tightly to his chest. The Spark, wide-eyed fresh faced gleam glimpsed before is long disappeared, replaced by a fathomless stare that takes in everything, all filters of boundless idealism ruthlessly stripped away to reveal a barely beating heart, terminally fatigued, heavily shell-shocked spirit; all that's occupying that mind now is the blissful thought of rest, sitting sidelined nursing an empty tank, wondering where it all went wrong; not a smidgeon of will left to rejoin the rat race, go go go GONE.

I'm sure you can deduce this lost soul is the very personification of our endpoint, walking wounded times a billion, wrung bone dry by eons of escalating unrest- uncoiling, unending spirals of genocide, famine, plague, depression, coups calamity- no stone left unturned when it came to indignities inflicted upon the last representatives of a spent race.

No more revolutions, no more upheavals brewing in the grassroots, ready to overthrow old guard & begin anew. All possible dogmas had been exhausted, ideologies expired, all that was once heralded as the savior of Existence now only hollow shells of former selves, inevitable springboard to only more empty Yuks.

Politicians come & go with campfire anecdotes of change , renewal; through the barrel of a gun or the step of a pulpit, the return of golden ages & paradise- well worn script that it was. Ultimately one more port in storm too, one more temporary respite from the overall pool of stagnation; sand castles only.

In all quarters the painful dearth of inspiration made itself felt. Marvelous human spirit, so championed by philosophers & holy men alike down with a fatal case of writer's block, after a handful of millennia overdrawn at the bank in regards to light bulb moments. Every possible variation on every single theme & still no denying that the human reputation had been grossly over estimated.

All the great books written, all the glorious operas sung, all the wonderful dreams dreamt; There was no where else to go.

A mindshredding revelation, one that led them back to the greatest past time: Wholesale slaughter.

And certainly in their sordid past unleashing the animal inside kicked started a constipated collective psyche, provided the leash was kept short enough; why what harm was there giving it the old college go?

Not now dear reader. There were no last second dénouements, no post battlefield insights into Being, no more evolving inroads paved. The survivors found themselves no more enlightened than when they'd begun. The old trick & fallback -all out combat- for the 1st time ever failing to pay off, growth as hopelessly stunted as when the whole ball of wax started rolling.

The remaining population guffawed like never before & a whole new wave of annihilation kicked off, unrestricted by lines in the sand, party affiliation- Parent killed child, child killed parent, soldier killed superior and doctor killed patient- ever widening circles of senseless death illustrating without doubt that old rules no longer applied, ground beneath our combatants' feet totally alien, like never before forced to face the grandeur of Their utter irrelevance, the sheer meaningless of it ALL.

Religion came back. Upswings in church attendance commonplace in times of crisis doubtless, public saddled with a creeping suspicion a meeting with the Maker is looming fast; but the fervor that citizens dove into all things Almighty this time out was unprecedented. Once more foxhole conversions ruled the day, life long atheists taking the body of bastard son himself beside life long worshippers -A BIBLICAL revival in plain English.

And even with many of the remaining population of Mother Earth bowing their heads in hard earned humility no respite was forthcoming: the heavenly Father it seemed reneging on his bastard offspring, now truly & thoroughly a member of that most disparaged of cliques: deadbeat dadda.

But just how to collect on these fraternal dues? There was no collection agency or bailiff to sick on the Holiest of Holy's; what could be done to draw the regard of an inattentive deity?

Let never it be said Humanity lacked for attention seeking behavior. Like any unloved child the petition for remedial affections was loud & undeniable: churches and monasteries drawing the ire of arsonists & bombers while daycares & schools had sharp drops in attendance, more & more firstborn sacrificed in elaborate rituals of Religious penance. Self administered flagellations hasty celibacy vows & malnutrition from fasting skyrocketed likewise, along with voluntary crucifixions & stake burnings- all in concerted effort to broadcast loud & clear the depths to which our forgotten rug rats had sunk; No longer treacherous little scamp getting up to manageable dickens, now foaming-at-the-mouth man-child biting the hand that fed.

Tragically though like any anonymous sperm donor, no wailing or gnashing of teeth from the deprived brood was sufficient in hijacking the spotlight from cloud bound navel gazing as the apple of His eye. Understandably too, no kind of description, no purplish flourish of the quill can adequately convey the agony man felt dear reader about this, his already fractured ,bruised, bleeding heart exploding into more resentment and seething fury.

That last glimmer of belief, staunchly shining in the total dark was wholly & completely snuffed -no more pleas, no more entreaties or silent prayers by bedsides kneeling, no 'God bless' christening sneezes or candle lit remembrance, no more nights spent watching with wonder the night sky- The End, to their surprise, hadn't arrived amid atomic pyrotechnics (oh if only it HAD) the conclusion to the final chapter of the divine comedy that was Mankind only passed when They fully comprehended just how truly alone They were, no possibility of parental pick-me-up whatsoever, final searing tutorial in the school of tough love.

Now remember while intrepidly soldiering through this ungodly summary that not all who live can weather the necessary hardships which hewn & sculpt, that solidify- making men from boys. Some miss the grade when at last appreciating the responsibilities that wisdom entails, that passing from care-free days of childhood into maturity demands.

Who can blame them? Matters do seem bigger on this side of the fence, You can only wonder what sheltered, unprepared eyes behold when peeking over the divide for the very 1st time...

Such was the case with these sad mortals; in mass protest against unacceptable conditions, they played the last card from a long spent deck, throwing it on the table with an exasperated cry of ENOUGH

Imagine faithful reader our imperiled race dangling over the Edge by a thread , with an arm creeping up this last dwindling life line, easing into a solid grip, wrapping fingers tightly around before offering one smart yank- forever severing the connection,that torn & ailing bind itself: Mortal Coil.

Ears ringing with our woeful tale, no effort on your part is required after these pathetic circumstances so far outlined to picture the dispirited demoralized human being, he of a million complaints to management regarding the sorry state of service. Our lot raises one final defiant cry into the twilight: Suicide by scores, shotgun or serrated edge, cliff side to capitol punishment to emptied pill bottle- the dregs of these small, small people could finally agree on something it seemed.

And now? Mother Earth stands vacant, reclaimed by the meek & mild animal kingdom, relieved those troublesome landlords have finally vacated the premises and left Man's best friends to roam free & unencumbered. All lasting traces of this tale will be wiped from the face of this rock & It will seem like nothing was there to begin with. Its left to us friend to cast an eye over the empty terrains of a perfect blue jewel, noting silently what came before.

Better luck next time.