Everyone either knows the score or is busy denying the score. Or is busy spinning the score so it means what he or she wishes it to mean. It's worse, and getting worse yet. But there's still beauty, and some of us see the beauty and the wonder and won't go quietly. The Anthropocene Epoch has arrived, whether I like or not, but I will always be a traitor to my species. 6.918 billion humans vie for extremely limited space and resources, pushing all else aside. It's not that humans can't be beautiful - they can. They can be beautiful, and noble, and brilliant. But they're not that brilliant. Like any animal, they eat, they fuck, they breed, they eat, they shit, they breed. Oh, I can love them. Now and then, I can love them. Now and then, they shine. In startling moments, in darkness and in light, in cacophony and profound silences, they can shine. One by one, or, more rarely, hand in hand.
Still, I'd trade a billion of them for a thousand Siberian tigers, or a thousand White rhinos (and yes, I'd take my place among the billion being traded). I'd trade three billion for...I said I wasn't up to this. And I'm not.
Balance is gone, and we've lost a world.
We live here, instead, in this diminished and rapidly diminishing place. And most, in their arrogance and ignorance, do not see what's been lost. And I can't show them, though I have been known to try.
But, in the eyes of Progress Man - Mr. and Mrs. and Miss H+, the thoughtless, heedless Multipliers, Profiteers, and Despoilers – I am a wicked beast, and I take my solace in the knowledge that even this Age of Man shall pass.
Sunny out there, but chilly, too. I would be at the shore today, even with the low temperatures, if I had that option.