Poemander

Humans are travellers, continuously on the move. Humans are seekers aspiring marvels. They may stop awhile, take a break, but they will perish should they stagnate. Humanity took people as conveyance; with the legs to fare and an upright stance to see, people adapted and are learning by degrees how to bear the weight of humankind. Humanity is less concerned with saddle though, and more concerned with movement. They want to swish and see what's there for them, switching rides at will and changing horses for improvement. Some people are not giving rides and graze unburdened. They should, however, feel relieved by right, but their limbs are heavy and the jaws are tight. Just like a bulging carcass on the road, no gentle touch, no jolt can bring it back to senses.

Humanity can take many forms, with the people being one of their shapes. There are some animals and some others that are duly humane. There are also others who used to be humans and may become humans at will. Humanity is bigger then people and shall, by all means, outlive them when the shoe will become too small to fit.

Like a pilgrim, humanity is moving towards its destination, sometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot. But the distance is neither measured in miles, nor in the years of travel; it is measured in sparks of understanding washed by the tears of joy. These tears are marvels outshining diamonds and gems. In them, like in a crystal ball, you'll see the past, the future and the glimpses of the final destination.

Humanity is fleeting like a scent, yet constant like a stream. In times of drought it disappears to only come back again from seemingly nowhere, with the new liveliness and freshness.

You may ask, however, what makes me so certain that humanity will succeed in arriving to its destination? It is indeed a difficult question, especially looking from the space where no light shines. I know one thing for certain, though, that humanity has got no choice, it has to move on adapting to this or another form, but it has to reach its goal. Humanity has been given a batten in this round with the entire Universe in the spectators' seats. Everyone froze watching them running. But mankind is not privileged, it's just our 'show time'. Others have done it before us and the others will do the same in their due time. Like by emptying the lungs exhalation induces a new breath, the cycle repeats itself on and on again. Plants have been humans in their course, long-long time ago, and granny willows along the river bank dreaming distant human dreams, allow lovingly for the kids to swing of their branches-hands – “Splash!”, into the waters. They dream of the past and of the future, cause that's what dreams are all about – the reminiscence of the future. There is no past and there is no future in the whirlpool of existence. Gods will be rocks and fishes – gods, and they all will have to have been humans, once and for all.