I am sorry Mary

I am sorry Mary, Albert was wrong, we are not Sisyphus. 
We are Prometheus, a modern version.

No gods to keep the knowledge. 
No titans or heroes to save us. 

But we are still there, in that cliffside of Caucasus. 

No eagle to tear our liver. 
No chains to hold us. 

But we are still there. 

With a crude blade at hand we are tearing ourselves apart. 

We want to know...

Love...

We drift futily among the stars.
Void.
Loneliness crashes our souls with untimely persistence.
Mutilating our vain existence into pre ordered cans of misery.

And then when you start to feel cosy in your glass shard filled can it comes and opens it.

And you are exposed amidst blazing light and velvet warmth. The end of suffering, of loneliness; a miracle ripped from our deepest collective memory takes shape in your soul.

You are happy.
You are blissed.
Poor you...

This is the great devourer, no one escaped it.
No one ever resisted it, how could we?
All that we ever dreamed of was to escape our cans.

Dum sedent in ruinas

Rome the eternal, Rome the glowing jewel of this world lies in front of me in ruins and as I walk through mutilated carcasses and scorched temples I know. 

I know that we will never forget; never forgive; the punic empress and her Hunic horde, the devastation and pain she put thousandfold upon the righteous citizens of the eternal city. 

But I also know that Rome is not constituted only by mortal souls and marble temples. Is the immortal idea of blood and steel, of strength and honor and this is inextricably binded within the deepest, most archaic parts of our being. 

And we will rebuild our fortress and reforge our swords and shields and all barbarians will tremble in the sight of the eagle.