Go on, little burning ember. Do not die out, but fall forever. Become the spark or mote in someone’s eye.
Lot’s of eye-lookings and candle-flamings here, like a great game of Clue, or Aristocle’s Folly, or mind games or whatever. Why have cave art if there was no future man, you rich, damned apes? Monkey men, magical homo habilus, or whatever. The great plain-walking ape, you or I.
Not anymore. Not since the future happened. That’s why they painted those things, the cave art of yore. We knew we were going places, moreso than all the rest of the universe. Maybe the animal kingdom hasn’t gone on predicting it’s own future because every one of it’s members has been such a subject of ours. You’d think some animals could hide at the very depths to the bottom of the sea, but no. Nothing has escaped us.
We’re people, we influence the whole shebang, we’re just trying to live in our own little honey-nets, that’s all. Our beehive honeycombs, or webs of fate, or tangible visions, you or I. The city council asked for the name of the road I live on, so I told them, “Super Awesome Fun St.” and now they’ve got to make new street signs, because they thought it was McAllister St. for the longest time. They didn’t look into it too deeply, because they believed what I told them. Why would I lie? I live there, don’t I?
I don’t even live there. It was an elaborate plot so that in 30 years, after the street sign has been stolen countless times, and knockoff trademarks make their rounds, people would wise up.
They don’t. John McAllister, who founded that road, is long since dead and buried. His legacy was turned into a token machine for young professionals. Only you or I know the difference and it never mattered a lick of beans.
Try it, sometime. Pretend, or make-believe. Use your imagination. Why?
Why not? Do it privately, so that others may not see you, even. Or else do it very publicly, reveal no details.
It is your imagination, not a barn door.