By Barbara H. Peterson
With the stroke of a pen, nations are formed, and with the stroke of a pen, they are destroyed. With the stroke of a pen, ideas are also given birth, and hope reborn.
With the stroke of a pen, our nation was formed, and with the stroke of a pen, it was torn apart. With the stroke of a pen, I lift my voice to the heavens to cry out in rage! I rage against the unabated greed of a people gone mad with lust for material possessions, comfort, and wealth. I rage against the death of a world enslaved by greed with the shackles of moral depravity and apathy.
All the material wealth in the world will not cover the poverty of soul that lies deep in the hearts of the foolish who count on their hordes of gold to protect them. Material wealth is fleeting. It can disappear in the blink of an eye, and when it goes, what is left – anything? For those whose only goal in life is one acquisition after another, there is nothing left. For those who place their faith in a life beyond what can be seen and felt, there is hope. When all turns to dust, the only survivors will be those clinging to what cannot be seen or felt.
Those who barricade themselves behind walls of wealth will not survive; their barricades will turn to dust. Those who cling to the hope that there is something more to life – something other than their possessions – will survive. With the stroke of a pen, wealth is created and lost, but hope is eternal. In a world consumed by greed, hope rises from the ashes like a beacon.
I choose to use my stroke of the pen to expose the poverty of material wealth and greed for what it is, and offer a message of hope. It is only a matter of time before the world pukes out this corruption in its belly. This disease is so deep within the bowels of humanity that the world as we know it cannot survive. It is erupting in open sores throughout the world in the form of endless war, torture, perversion, hatred, and fear. These are symptoms of a disease so far gone that the only relief from the agony is death.
So, I lift my pen in rage against a dying world consumed by greed – not to destroy hope, but to offer it. Like the birds that live by taking shelter where they find it, we can survive the coming crisis. We can search within to find the strength to carry on after the world as we know it no longer exists. There is more to life than what we see, feel, and hear. There has to be because if there isn’t, then life has no meaning, and if life has no meaning, we are merely dumb brutes clawing our way through time devoid of consciousness.
Therefore, I lift the banner of hope reborn out of the ashes of a world destroyed by the disease of greed, and lay claim to life after death – without malice or treachery. Here’s to a new beginning.
Copyright 2007, Barbara H. Peterson