Despite all the beauty and marvels that man has devised, in spite of all the ingenuity and wonders that Man has sired, they never cease to prove me wrong.

They rive that humans can also be so shallow.

They insist on fighting for a hallow title, one that would not change anything except how their nation would come to be addressed as. More alarming is the fact that the people are not aware of the consequences, of the possible blood shed that will result. Ask them why they fight, they will tell you they have fought since they can remember, for it is in their blood and in their heritage.

The same humans mull over history, demanding compensation for the crimes of a generation long since past. A crime committed by a generation they have long since faded from sight, retreated into obscurity, and for all I know, long gone from this plane. Have they not questioned that fact that if the War had produced a different outcome, the side they proclaimed the liberator would be playing to role of the antagonist. Also, have they not spared any thought for the soldiers, innumerable young men would were lead into believing their cause was right. Have they not cried for young men who died uncomprehending of the circumstances?

I can only say that it is all in the past, and that everyone is as much a perpetrator of the crime as they are victims of the heinous act. It is only the foolish who claim the past indubitably concrete. The past is but a mist the obscures even the most insightful of men.

And as one has inevitably come to understand, Man cannot resist the shroud of the past.

It as the moth cannot resist the candle flame. Likewise, there will always be people who cannot resist the bright flame of the past. It is instinct to head towards the fire, yet even if it singes one’s wings, one has no choice but to persist. Why? Because one does not have any viable alternative. One only knows that an inexplicable urge dictates one’s actions. Even when one realizes that the fire will only be one’s demise, one cannot stop for it is the only thing one holds dear, the only thing one knows as 'real', Take away that conviction and one’s existence is negated. No one with any ounce of sanity or any rational thought would choose to lose one’s point of existence. One would rather exists for a lost cause than cease to be.

Thus, one would naturally choose to die martyrs.

Unfortunately, one will not. One will merely end up as a statistic, or at best, a footnote in time. As it is, one is a victim of history. A victim of one’s device. Rather, the victim of a device.

For the past is man's last refuge of truth. The past expounds an unyielding certainty, or so it appears to most. The past is reassuring, because it cannot be changed, it is, as the ancients described, "written in stone". However, what is written in stone is not necessarily the truth to begin with. It is merely an insight into a small facet of what constitutes a greater picture. History is undoubtedly real, but it is only as real as the scribes allow it to be.

Yet one must also understand that the scribes do not posses perfect knowledge. Regardless of the quantity or accuracy of their accounts, they will never capture every possible angle of a specific event. Not when it is practically an impossibility to locate every witness to the event. Also, questionable is the obstinacy of the scribe. Would the scribe record as he see and hears or would he write with a knife to his throat?

The past is not a book that one can easily read. It is akin to a sticky quagmire of hatred, lies, deceit, triumph, victory, honor, glory, courage and hope. A lost generation's legacy that lingers and unrelentingly beckons the unwary to propagate the lost agendas and forgotten ideals that survived the tides of time unscathed.

Therein lies the greatest paradox; the past is written by the multitudes of lost travelers, and not the one who found his way out of the swap. The only one qualified to write history is an observer. One who exists outside. However, a true observer would understand that the past couldn’t be put in words. The sheer enormity of it all proves all too overwhelming to express in a matter of words and sentences. As is the definition of an observer dictates that he cannot be involved with the events, thus it is only logical to concede that history should only be study by one who has extricated oneself from the bounds of said timeline. One who by obligation will not and cannot interfere with events concerning that certain past event. Otherwise, one would find that one is only nothing more than an experienced navigator in the quagmire.

Even to the most experienced traveler with the brightest torch, there exists a possibility of losing one's path.

Therefore, it is one’s personal responsibility to guide whom one meets in the mist of time, to the best of one’s abilities. However, it is unreasonable to request that one aid all one might chance upon. Thus the most basic of responsibilities, the most obligatory of gestures is to ensure one never dispenses false directions. One who is as lost as any other has not purpose going about trying to further confuse when one cannot ascertain that one has indeed found one’s path. To resort to such acts are a reflection of one’s devious nature, and is unpardonable.

Such act constitutes a sin.

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What I can show you is the reality, but what you remember is a fantasy. Don't forget.

Gavin pondered @ 22:35