1914 and 2014, twin outset years, one hundred years apart.
Harbingers of generational waste. Meaningless battles of attrition. Futures sacrificed or diverted from better paths.
Mud trench versus virtual trench, both a digging down into Earth or self. The anxiety of life flying by, sometimes a decade or more of taking cover, ducking into baser instincts.
2014 was only six years removed from Covid. Isn’t that crazy?
Whatever peace is seems a perilous no man’s land strewn with barbed culture away from us. Aberrational norms causing us to drop flat on the muddy ground to avoid the fire of those mounted on the high ground of the strangest status quo.
Masking for gas, toward the better Western canons of our nature, hidden by the most odious smoke, still we crawl.