16 April 2013

The stars just don't care

Don't worry, the world isn't going to get any worse. There will always be blood in the streets and the scorched, bloated, cracked faces of underfed families. The will always be blind angry men who strap bombs to their backs and set off to ruin the lives of people they don't know for no reason, and if for a reason, because they were bored. There will always be fat, soft-handed, stupid old men who dress up in suits and watch the world burn as they sit on leather couches on the top floor of glossy glass towers, drinking fine wine and signing contracts for Lord-knows-what. There will always be the blasphemers, the false religions, the heathens, the rapists, the homosexuals, the perverted artists, the strip-teasers, the abortions, the weeping prostitutes left to die. This generation is not worse than the last and no better than the next. There will always be suffering. So stop complaining.

But yet, for some weird reason, there are men and women who still bother to fall in love, grass that still bothers to grow, and comrades who still bother to stick by each other.  The force of good is as unstoppable and relentless as the evil it opposes. There will always be men who carry the weeping women off the streets and feed them hot soup. There are always people who survive the bombs. And  there are always bombs that happen to land on the stupid old men on the top floor.

But most importantly, from the beginning to the end of history, there will always be children looking outside their bedroom windows at night. There will always be stars, and the stars don't give two cents about what's going on down here.