TRAGIC MAGIC
TRAGIC MAGIC
the human capacity to believe only the best within itself is questioned.
the same creative consciousness that revels in recordings of its own beauty, fear, anger and existence cannot help but be encapsulated, falling victim to its darker side.
the darker side of emotion where nightmarish realizations of the true spectrum of human nature
divulge themselves in terroristic catharsis.
the unsightly imagery replays countlessly in our disbelieving minds;
disbelieving that this-
yes, this —
this horrific manifestation of relentless hate
is rooted somewhere deep within ourselves; our own nature.
the same nature — the very same one —
that allows for us to mourn such hate and look down upon it from far away.
how far away can humanity get from itself before it realizes that introspection and the elimination of the “other” is all that will save it;
is all that can decipher its hidden wonders and battle its inner demons?
the “other” is that image looking back from the looking glass casting shadows of doubt only to be
quickly
and
quietly
hidden
and tucked away.
as their faces slowly fade from view, empty shells of feelings are left behind adrift.
currents spreading through the sea rippling into earthly oblivion.
feelings left behind for the delicate fingers of humanity to
pick at
and unravel
when we are at last ready.
