‘Ruthless, impersonal, systemic, organic, whimsical, ceaselessly churning: what nature’s wisdom feels like. A savage capricious beauty.’ ~ EON
Like we’ve already said, Rome is dead and buried, yet it lives on, as do other great civilizations. The native Americans and the Celts are truly dead and irrelevant, and the little and insignificant bands of people, whose name no one knows, are as good as never having existed at all.
What all these peoples had in common, from the greatest Roman to the most savage caveman, from the scummiest imperialist to the most distinguished tribal chief, was that they all had the choice at some point in time to change their tack and expand their world, to each their own. They became aware of their presence in one way or another, as humans do, and they had the opportunity to act on it, both as individuals, over their lifetimes, and as people, over the ages.
Only those whose legacy still lives on made their privilege worthwhile. Among them, only those with the strongest ideas and fittest notions made a substantial difference. They made it through, and through them and them alone the legacy of what currently shapes the world has been established, working its way into the thread of time.
The rest, the irrelevant people of the world, the tribes no one has ever heard of and the civilizations that crumbled without a trace, even the misguided folk of the grand systems — the run-of-the-mill people comprising the empires and the run-of-the-mill leaders that often led them — were the proverbial back on which the system was propped up, yes, and nothing could have been done without them, true, but they alone were ultimately responsible for the demise of greatness. They were the reason the grand systems fell, the chinks in the armor of human intelligence, the vulnerable joints of progress. The weakest links in the chain of development. The frayed ends of advancement and the tangled nets of tradition on which life tripped and fell. Unable to anticipate events, mitigate problems or act in the face of transition, they fell behind again and again, drowning in the wake of change. They became part of the rubble, rich compost, mighty screams in erased spaces that haunt the survivors’ dreams.
Unnerved? Watch this space for more.
From the collection of writings EON: THE ANGRY COMING OF AGE