Love is the one force that cannot be explained, cannot be broken down into a chemical process. It is the beacon that guides us back home when no one is there, and the light that illuminates our loss. Its absence robs us of all pleasure of our capacity for joy. It makes our nights darker and our days gloomier. But when we find love no matter how wrong, how sad, or how terrible we cling to it. It gives us our strength. It holds us upright. It feeds on us and we feed on it. Love is our grace. Love is our downfall.
Hunger is the most important thing we know, the first lesson we learn. But hunger can be easily quieted down, easily satiated. There is another force, a different type of hunger, an unquenchable thirst that cannot be extinguished. It’s very existence is what defines us, what makes us human. That force is love.
We have become overconfident as a species. We ignorantly believed in our primacy over all else, over all other species, over our planet itself. Will we perish under our own greed and selfishness? Or will we overcome and survive? A short time ago, our current reality was beyond imagination. Now we have one last chance to win back our world. In order to defeat the Master, we must be as cold and ruthless and savage as he is… and yet without becoming monsters ourselves.
Gentlemen. Human life is fleeting. I’ve watched many men perish, good and bad. The act itself, the dying, is the same. What distinguishes the honourable from the dishonourable is how in the few, most important moments in life, they conducted themselves. How would you men like to be remembered? As human animals, marginalized, locked away in cages? Or as warriors? Fighters of the highest order? Today, you fight for one tribe: humankind. It no longer matters what colour you wear, or what colour your skin is. All that matters is the colour of your blood. Red versus white. Today you will define who you are. Today you will spill white blood and change the future.
Being good means nothing, unless you are willing to do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done.
You are the hunger. The strain that feeds on us since time immemorial. But make no mistake, you’re still a parasite. And we will flush you out and burn you. It will not be me. It will not be now, but it will happen. No matter how long it takes, in another face, in other eyes, you will see me as you die.[to The Master]
What I find fascinating is how love is considered a gift, a blessing, with no acceptance to the fact that it also binds and chokes and strangles.
The world today is not what it was one week ago. What will it be one week from now? One month from now? Nothing is written that cannot be changed. It is a small world, after all. We made it that way.