Wings over the World. What to make of that I wonder. The much discussed parallels and similarities between H,G Wells's seminal work from the 1930's and events that have since come to pass are staggering. Submarine launched ballistic missles, tensions between so-called 'super powers' leading to social and economic degradation and eventual destruction, various wars and conflicts in the pacific and beyond. What it must be to have such foresight in fancy, to create literature based on excrutiatingly detailed analysis of the ways of the world, with all of its political posturing, religious dogma, social alienation and endless rheotoric.
The Wings over the World. Friend, or foe? A brutal organisation dedicated to oppression of free speech and free thought? Or a forward thinking, dynamic and ultimately benevolent benefactor intent on diverting an errant humankind from its hell bent path of self destruction? I prefer the idea of the latter, though I am certain many would beg to differ.
What it would be to be able to apply a shard of the same ideals to my own future. Both from the authors point of view and from the viewpoint of the characters detailed therein. To be able to see even a few days into the future would be a blessing indeed, to be able to gauge even the tiniest of ideas about what may lay in store the most welcome of tonics. The reality of the inevitability and hopelessness of the situation was acknowledged, accepted, and possibly even overcome, seemingly a good deal of time ago. Yet the acceptance of these undeniable facts have eradicated one question mark by throwing multiple alternatives into its place. How will I feel? How will they feel? Why don't I feel anything? Will I ever? How will we live? How will I?
How to be objective, the wings over my own world, if you will. Am I already my own fiercest protector? Have I armoured myself so comprehensively so as to render myself literally impregnable? Have I, in my eternal struggle to keep the levity in the gravest of predicaments, ultimately lost sight of the gravity of it altogether? I feel nothing but a deep and penetrating numbness. It had always been my idea that the pain and anguish accrued from the years of living beneath the sword of damocles would at this point become apparent, eventually unfurling themselves from that deep dark place in the pit of my stomach where I had chosen to house them, and allow me to cut them loose. Instead, a void has opened inside me, a vaccuum sits in that place, one that I am beginning to believe is permanent. In my efforts to become the wings over my own world, I fear I have brutally oppressed my own emotioanl empathy to the point of non-existence.
The future is a dark and uncertain place.
'Well it's late in the hour
And a few more grains of sand will fall
And the colourful flowers, drawn upon the dust and moss
Now I fear the worst is near
I hold them close and count their years
I pray a ray of light appears
To shine down on us here
Break down in the shape of things to come
But I'm moving on like a soldier
And I pray now, when all is said and done,
Its not ours to break, the shape of things to come'
Taken from 'Shape of Things to Come' - Audioslave, from the album 'Revelations'
The Wings over the World. Friend, or foe? A brutal organisation dedicated to oppression of free speech and free thought? Or a forward thinking, dynamic and ultimately benevolent benefactor intent on diverting an errant humankind from its hell bent path of self destruction? I prefer the idea of the latter, though I am certain many would beg to differ.
What it would be to be able to apply a shard of the same ideals to my own future. Both from the authors point of view and from the viewpoint of the characters detailed therein. To be able to see even a few days into the future would be a blessing indeed, to be able to gauge even the tiniest of ideas about what may lay in store the most welcome of tonics. The reality of the inevitability and hopelessness of the situation was acknowledged, accepted, and possibly even overcome, seemingly a good deal of time ago. Yet the acceptance of these undeniable facts have eradicated one question mark by throwing multiple alternatives into its place. How will I feel? How will they feel? Why don't I feel anything? Will I ever? How will we live? How will I?
How to be objective, the wings over my own world, if you will. Am I already my own fiercest protector? Have I armoured myself so comprehensively so as to render myself literally impregnable? Have I, in my eternal struggle to keep the levity in the gravest of predicaments, ultimately lost sight of the gravity of it altogether? I feel nothing but a deep and penetrating numbness. It had always been my idea that the pain and anguish accrued from the years of living beneath the sword of damocles would at this point become apparent, eventually unfurling themselves from that deep dark place in the pit of my stomach where I had chosen to house them, and allow me to cut them loose. Instead, a void has opened inside me, a vaccuum sits in that place, one that I am beginning to believe is permanent. In my efforts to become the wings over my own world, I fear I have brutally oppressed my own emotioanl empathy to the point of non-existence.
The future is a dark and uncertain place.
'Well it's late in the hour
And a few more grains of sand will fall
And the colourful flowers, drawn upon the dust and moss
Now I fear the worst is near
I hold them close and count their years
I pray a ray of light appears
To shine down on us here
Break down in the shape of things to come
But I'm moving on like a soldier
And I pray now, when all is said and done,
Its not ours to break, the shape of things to come'
Taken from 'Shape of Things to Come' - Audioslave, from the album 'Revelations'
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