Stuck in a system where the rusted gears endlessly falter, the man satisfies himself of his proletarian status. He only sees that reality which eats his dreams and ambitions, accepted and forever acclaimed. How many times, have we been told that “It has always been like that.” “At your age, I was thinking just like you.” “You don’t have a choice.”. Asleep within that pre-defined frame, unable to see past his own cage, mankind perceives itself as free. Free to choose, free to establish its own way of living. An illusion of freedom, in order to maintain productivity. Vicious circle that has for unique goal the destruction of human’s intellectual matter. Materialist, consumer, ignorant or well-informed…he remains nothing more than a prisoner in endless research of happiness.
Are we so numb that we are unable to see the wheel spin? Are we so dishearten, that we prefer to keep our eyes closed on our present, our future and our past? How can we accept to live under such conditions without having words on our life?
We are deafened by the noises that the machine produces, scatterbrained by its lights and emblems. How can we sit and watch for nothing but a moment, the movement of that wheel? Contemplate with aggravation the deterioration of our existence. Reduce to nothingness all efforts because lonely men that you are, needless to wake up, this dream is so much better.
Far away, we perceive that soothing mirage. A soft breeze brushing the coast while by a single day off, we enjoy that view, oh so pleasing. The racket so familiar is no more. But by a snap of the fingers, has already returned. Vain hopes too often unhealthy: this is the symbol of happiness that human clings to.
We don’t have time to think. We are born on this planet, as main matter for that industry that destroys the mankind potential as we have known it. The resource, tireless, reproduces and when one doesn’t do it anymore, another will know just better how to oil the equipment. Like a cannibal, our predator watches us, spies on us. He will know soon enough when the moment of renewal will arrive, devouring its prey still tender.
And he watches the wheel spin, a subtle smile caressing softly the rigid features of his face. He knows. Main matter, not only are you crafting wonderful gadgets, but you know better than anyone, how to use them. Of that piece of paper, like a magician, you will bring me thousands back. Don’t ever ask for more than your bread, because never, oh never, will I tolerate such insolence. This is mine, be happy of what is yours.
And we will watch the beast feast on our brother, because we are free. We will not say word, because we are comfortable. We earn our bread; he did not even know it tasted. But whatever…my crumb is fresh, and this nest is but more mine.
Comes the day where the grain becomes rare. We cannot earn our bread, because it has disappeared. We cannot earn our water, because he drank it all. But whatever…we are comfortable. …we were comfortable. Today, we do not have enough to live on, and that wheel, of which we were hearing the gentle cog, stopped spinning. We have, as well, stopped existing.
- Sabbi
