From the heights of my tower of industry that proudly faces the city and its unmindful residents, a question powerfully takes control of my mind. Perhaps, a doubt brought about by the unnatural stupor resulting from the constant observation of the logic of our business machines, or my incessant craving to interact with something other than an amalgamation of transistors and wires, I grant it time and effort.

What is it, and where does it go? Is it a feeble, meager tracing on the surface of self-transcending mystery, or a deep understanding of our “imaginary” reality? Of which, both, apprehensively yet violently betray our own moral honesty. It fades from consciousness, apparently as fast as it comes, though not always as fiercely, when it lingers in the ether of time and intellectual responsibility – asking “why?” Why has it not been seen? Why was it ignored, when “it” shone its bright light on the darkness of our hypocrisy?

It beckons us to look longer, to attempt to understand it. It beseeches all to see how important it is for us. It implores us to let it in, as with contempt we close the door of our minds and hide behind that pretentious ignorance we call wisdom.

It is Truth, and it is always there, for even in its constant flux, its dignity is impermeable. It hides and confuses itself in the plethora of principles and ideas we accept as true and noble because they satisfy our emotional insincerities.  An idea, a principle is neither true nor noble because it makes someone happy. The noblest of truths, like the pervasiveness of suffering or the indifference of the universe, do exactly the opposite. Consequently, whence our hate for truth comes.

Mistreated and disregarded, truth often falls victim to human vice, and subjectivity; which being the most rampant of these, is solely to blame for the innumerable intellectual embargoes we’ve imposed upon its virtue.

It is my hope; my sincerest yearnings that we might one day embrace it. That this equivocal, and almost oblique anthropomorphism of its pure form may befall upon critically honest and sensitive ears. It is a simple wish, in my heart, but an impossible one from the perspective of my tower’s window.

It goes nowhere, it can’t, it doesn’t want to – yet we deliberately reject it in our attempts to retain, or to remain in our blissfully safe, complacent ignorance.

Peyton Dracco

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Tags: Truth, subjectivity

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