Wistful this A.M.

Wistful this A.M. You know, "vague, regretful longing..."

I dreamed of dead people last night. Not scary. Not worrying. I spoke with the dead. They were fine. Just gone. Or, okay, maybe not gone, just in another less material realm.

This A.M. you can feel time passing. Ha. I mean, of course, time is always passing. That is if you believe in time. Time is a bugger. Relentless. Always on the move.

I am wondering about "apocalypse."  Since I have been alive on the planet, it seems that if there is going to be some kind of apocalypse for my species it will be by our own hands. All-out nuclear War. Nuclear Winter. Or, you know, Climate Catastrophe. You know, it won't be God coming down to wreak havoc, it will be human beings murdering their own life-sustaining ecosystem that will do us all in.

We are watching it happen. It seems like a relentless march to an inevitable destruction. I suppose I am wistful for my species. The Fossil Fuels in the ground will make fossils of all of us. I mean, the fossilization is coming anyway, but why hurry it along? Why engage in some weird, species-wide suicide because we can't manage to be sensible stewards of our wondrous habitat. The radio tells me the big worry on everyone's mind: our Consumer Culture will sputter. Yes, the great worry on everyone's mind: Will Shoppers, Stop Shopping?!

We are a silly species. We revel in our ignorance and stupidity. We think we are smart. Wistful. Yes. Wistful this A.M.