Splintered Blog 14: The problem with perpetuity
Hubris is infinite, rationality is not
7/17/20262 min read
As seen on a crumbling obelisk somewhere (probably):
“The dust of age is all the rage;
when your grayed platitudes are anything but sage.”
The so-called problem with perpetuity is (at the risk of being redundant) perpetual in nature, and not necessarily pernicious. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if those two things intersected at some point. It should be common knowledge, and therefore no surprise that suspect expectations may enact retractions and mask any desperate cadaver’s best attempts at dispelling mediocrity or attaining something greater.
Often earnest efforts to gauge or gain long-standing traction are commandingly enacted only for intended plans to fall through shaking hands. Glib inscriptions match their facile attitude with thoughts of having every commonality redacted, freeing long-term goals from such restrictions to a still-repressed mortality.
Shiny things encaged in gilded boxes.
Portents carved into the surface of reality.
Nascent games that bleed through generations.
Hubris donned before the alter of humility.
All in desperate service of a hollow truth, denying salient pacts with sanity in favor of a grand distraction. Almost always self-inflicted, falsely held or wholly manufactured, this mad conviction tends to badly manage current trends and take the lion’s share of languid meaning to its most inept conclusion. A faulty focus trained to conquer and condemn in measures, all to mask a fervent insecurity or fear of questions, casts its future net on indirect conjectures, only to be left abandoned and bereft when ageless remedies are proven insufficient.
In truth, there is no short-cut to disown disorder and project with any confidence enduring avatars (and often substitutes) to unhinged horrors, tripped up by the certainty of even epic granite eulogies to fade and falter. So too the vast expanse of never-ending fantasies is held accountable for sourcing its most vain discourse from golden glories kept in check by reckless standards of reality. (Mostly.)
This hardly ever ends well.
Regrettably obsessions with extending fragile reaches whether granite or embattled lack the aptitude to fully grasp the most impassioned fact that merely being teaches. So much we lack is unconcerned with savvy answers than a less conclusive understanding of our best perspectives, limited in scope and calmly saved from savage graces. Left unchecked the chance imbalance only adds to darker aspects of our inner voice, whose desperate efforts yield fantastic anarchies that no amount of careful drafting can contain.
And only ever offered as a hollow remedy, temporal vagaries continue to defy their own contrivances, just in time to prove themselves forgotten when the final act is fully robbed of context anyway. Swallowed by the dust of ages, wiped away with all the fallen sages.