Day 212

If I should bring a child into this world, let them be plain. Let their non-remarkableness be the only remarkable thing about them.

Let them thrive without making a wave or enduring echo after the fact.

Let them never draw the gaze of the fates/furies/gods/producers/powerful/influential/awful/evil/corrupt/ravenous.

Let them be no target of unnecessary scandal, envy or lust.

Let them be strong and virtuous, but let their strengths and virtues be hidden from the eye of passersby; so only those that have earned an audience might see the oasis behind the mist.

I wish these things for my children that may never be, not because I think it should be this way, but because I fear them being remarkable in a world that is fast fattening itself off the flesh of the wondrous. The beautiful. 

This place is consuming the bells before they are given chance to bloom, and I find I am mourning the sights and smells that could have been, but never now will be. Why? Because if it only could have been, then it would have been.

If it would have been, it should have been.

And if it should have been…

If.

If I should bring a child into such a world, I would not know where to begin raising it up to survive shouldering the burden of its own amazement, in a world that has run out of its own supply ...

I wouldn’t.

So I shouldn’t ...