Some people cannot tolerate blood on their hands or the thought that they might have contributed to blood being spilled and staining some other person's hands. Some actually feel the stain and weight of blood weigh heavily upon them. They are unable to bear the burden, the offense, the sin. They are unable to bear it and it's the pressure. In the aftermath, they swear a sacred oath to never again do anything which would lead to that result. They would never, ever, be responsible once again for such a horror.
They would live the rest of their lives as good people, respectful of others and their right to live, decently and safely. They would seek peaceful solutions and avoid, shun, as much as possible Hatred, hate speech inciting awful, mortal violence, and insinuations that lead to the spelling of blood and desperate destruction. To wounds never healed, only remaining as wounds to body and soul, the violator and the violated, suffering from wounds festering with pus and infection, injuries never to heal. Never to be forgotten. Never to be forgiven.
History is rife with the blood of millions soaking the ground, ugly periods of time, lasting years, brother against brother, nation against nation, sections of the globe versus other sections of the globe. So intense so bitter, so deep were these differences that even attempts to grow scabs over them failed to remain intact. Too often the very causes and end results of one war led to the horrific presentation of the next war and the next and the next, even given characterization as "Hot" and "Cold". Men boasted of their prowess of killing, became heroes in the name of their expertise in slaughter, were admired by women, and idolized and hero worshipped by the young who wished to grow up to be them, and made careers out of these desires and actions.
And nothing has changed, has it?
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
No, I am incorrect.
It has changed.
So much more for the worse.
Ever more fatal, frightening, unchangeable except for the worse. More in numbers killed and wounded, property hopelessly destroyed, and consequences portending woe and a future unimaginable for humanity, as we knock ourselves back to prehistoric times, perhaps to the Big Bang, or see an unclothed man and woman walking in a garden with apple in hand. We are so suffused with such hostility that we leave ourselves no may out.
No one to blame for this other than our own selves. We refuse to hear, ears deafened, or see, eyes blinded, tears cascading but going undried. Feelings are all hostile, as we live in wells of pessimism of any meaningful improvement within our lives or those of anyone else to come. Not now and most probably not for any future of mankind. Beneath it all, under the false fronts we wear, we live in fear and horror, almost totally hopelessly immersed in oceans of doubt, in black wells of pessimism of any meaningful improvement within our lives or those of anyone else. Not now and most probably not for a future of mankind.
After reading all of this, you are shaking your head in puzzlement. What does 1492 have to do with this posting? I have written words of our yesterdays, of our todays, and even of our problematic tomorrows. However, no 1492 other than in the title and once in the posting so far.
SO - 1492?
YES. Come back here tomorrow and all will be made clear. That is a promise. From me to you
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