Unlearned Lessons from History

• Non-Fiction

								
What used to be a clear, blue, summer sky is nothing but ash and smoke now. Where once, snow used to fall from the sky, bombs rain down now, credited to humans in tiny metallic birds, hiding behind the clouds. The Earth, the aggregate of everything on it, is nothing but a sheet of red now, with the bodies of mothers weeping over their sons’, of wives who never got to say goodbye to their husbands, and of men who never got to father their children, littered across its punctured heart.  The ground breathes its ragged breaths from its decapacitated lungs as the heavens witness the injustice unfolding below. Tens of thousands of men, women, and children living in constant fear of losing their loved ones, of never getting to say the last goodbye, of being left behind while the warm embrace of death welcomes the other. Worst of all is that all these endless cruelties were and are imposed on millions, just because some other scarcely different inhabitant of Earth decided to spill rivers of blood so, they could become the brief masters of one part of the world. A world that is so insignificant and tiny, in the grand scheme of things, that the delusion that humans have some superiority over each other is challenged greatly when one thinks about it.
Building on the legendary Carl Sagan's ideas; this tiny, insignificant mote of dust, however, is us. It is the only home we’ve ever known. On it, everyone that has ever lived existed. Every parent, child; builder, destroyer; king, peasant; nurse, wounded; saint, sinner; noble, common man; tyrant, oppressed; you, I; we all lived here as equals, as neighbors, on a minute blue dot, floating in a vast cosmic arena.
Perhaps there is no greater folly of human egomania than the fact that now and then you, I and everyone else become so enveloped in our inconsequential lives that we forget how the collapse of the sun and the death of every single thing that we as humans built, thought, wrote and most importantly — loved, is inevitable. No one would be left to remember or celebrate human flourishing and all we did. No one would be there to remember even Cleopatra or Hitler, for we would all be for naught. 
Why is it then that we as humanity are so vehement in our hatreds and so eager to kill one another for eminence and triumph, when our actions would be nothing but insignificant in the timeline of the universe, with no one to remember them afterward? Why is it that we have and continue to fight great wars, learning nothing from our past, when all that we do as a species would have no effect on the symphony of the cosmos’ endless and perfect rhyme? 
I believe that all of this demonstrates how it is our duty to deal kindly with one another and to cherish the tiny mote of dust that we call home because no help would ever come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes