First we killed God,
and called it progress,
the leaving behind
of childish myths,
a product
of the imagination,
crafted to reflect
our noblest aspirations.
So God was pushed
out of the way
for our own good
and humanity became
its own master,
soaring so much higher
now without
the chains of dogma
holding it back.
God was an idea
of the infinite
created to give
purpose and meaning
to our finite
existence,
a light to protect us
from the darkness.
Humanity didn't need
that illusion
anymore.
Or so we thought.
Now we live and die
in soft safety,
with Prozac and Viagra
to keep us going.
Who needs
a Higher Power
when people can
indulge themselves
like decadent Greek gods?
There is no darkness
in this better world,
just fast food,
warm beds,
and free porn,
and mindfulness,
of course,
to keep us centered
and forever orbiting
the new and improved
Holy Trinity of
Me, Myself, and I.
Then we slew the heroes,
killing them for
their imperfections,
those so-called exemplars
of human excellence
who hinted at the heights
of our potential.
We knew we could never
be divine,
but could model
ourselves
on the best among
us,
those noble souls
who guided us to
our better selves.
Our heroes now,
such as they are,
are athletes,
entertainers,
and self-help gurus,
all one and the same,
ephemeral performers
in this never-ending now.
We no longer accept
claims to human greatness.
What an oxymoron!
How odd to put
a mere mortal
on a pedestal,
someone no better
than you or me!
No heroes are allowed
in the Land of the Level
unless they sing,
or dance,
or make money!
But Mammon is not a hero.
Celebrity is not heroic.
I am not either.
What then,
I asked
Me, Myself, and I?
Next
we laughed
at the patriots,
turning a love of country
into crude chauvinism.
We smirked when they spoke of
duty and sacrifice
to the nation.
Why?
To what purpose?
To wage wars for Walmart?
For Amazon's bottom line?
Patriotism became
the simple man's ideology,
something dim-witted rubes clung to
with their God and guns.
Only fascists and rednecks
still got excited about
flags and anthems.
"And anyway,"
the finger-wagging scolds
would solemnly declare,
"what is the nation
but a collection of
myths,
lies,
and crimes?
What's to admire?
Throw it all away,"
they demanded,
"it's nothing but
another false idol!
Set yourselves free!"
And so we cosmopolitans did,
deconstructing life
all the way down to
dead atoms.
Yet nothing
poured in to fill
the vacuum but
Me, Myself, and I.
Then they came for eros,
and still no one
raised any objections.
Romantic love became
an anachronism,
an emotion only
indulged vicariously
through television and movies,
those two digital condoms
for our souls.
Romance collapsed into hedonism,
something ordered off
a glowing menu,
swipe right, swipe left,
transient transactions
to chase fleeting pleasures,
forever and ever, amen.
But no ache,
not anymore,
the ache of love was gone,
the heat of love's passion too,
and no longing either,
for nothing was left
to ache or long for.
We recoil from intimacy,
real intimacy,
ego-melting
soul-singing
intimacy.
Instead,
we became
shrinking and timid,
afraid of committing ourselves
to any enduring
loss of
self
into another,
into the real holy communion,
forever and ever, amen.
We cripples can't speak
love's language anymore
without digital crutches.
Our emotions now stir only
when stirred artificially,
experiencing mediated emotions
from mediated mediators,
all the way down
to the bottomless bottom.
This may be
the saddest truth
of them all for
Me, Myself, and I.
Rest easy,
my dear friends
in the mirror,
it's better this way!
What we've lost,
we've gained in
efficiency
and comfort.
Who needs
the heat of passion
when you have
air conditioning?
Why feel anything
when it might hurt?
JUST HAVE FUN!
And if you don't like it,
take a pill to pretend
it's otherwise.
JUST BE HAPPY!
Or jack into the Matrix
and forget
that you can remember
how it used to be,
or how it could be still.
JUST TRY HARDER!
Or whatever.
Who gives a damn?
No one is listening
anymore
in this digital
blinking world
without soul.
No God,
no hero,
no grateful nation,
no eager lover,
nobody,
nothing,
and no one left
but each alone
in the dark,
head bowed,
worshiping
Me, Myself, and I.
