“Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.” – Robert Frost
Which element will be the catalyst of humankind’s end? Will it be the fire of desire, our lust for SUV’s and new TV’s? Will our passion to consume everything we see finally drive us like shortsighted termites to eat the last support post holding up the roof of the world? Will it be the heat of our road rage that spurs someone to shoot the accidental motorist who would have been the Savior?
Or will it be the icy end for us, the natural result of our hardened stance called inaction in the face of suffering? Will the life in us frost over the way the truth freezes at the tip of the tongue, the way our butterfly dreams fall still in the bitter cold of our hearts? The living love that might lead us to paradise we’ve turned to stone statuary in this concrete hell.
And what might hold off this elemental death? A middle road, halfway between the flames and the frost? A journey lukewarm like the amniotic fluid which brought us into this dilemma?
But we find no inspiration in moderation – we are dissatisfied with contentment. We will have it all held tightly in the coffers or we will burn it for fuel. We will dam it, mine it, suck it dry or pave it over. We do not find the strength to follow Wildness on its Way.
It will be the fire first, a cosmic incineration of the plastic mask we’ve pasted on the world. And then the ice, an eternity of sterile silence in our ears, which will yearn for one more bird song.