We Are to Hold Back the Night

I am con­tin­u­ally frus­trated by the state of the world. But this is not a novel con­cept, nor am I alone in this feel­ing. We have no olden days to look back on — even in our best of moments we have been weak­ened by inde­ci­sion and com­pro­mise. We have no promis­ing future to work towards — we are in a help­less spiral.

Our mil­i­tary was once, and still is, a thing of minor glory. Much can be accom­plished with that mil­i­tary, and the lead­er­ship and ded­i­ca­tion bred are to be respected. Still, acts of cru­elty and bru­tal­ity are not new or lim­ited to the present sit­u­a­tion. Our lives are col­laps­ing. Without a world-created past to lead us, and with­out a world-created hope to seek, we are unrav­el­ling. To watch a man kneel and wait five min­utes for his throat to be sev­ered, to find yet another friend dam­aged, to wit­ness the ero­sion of the great­est ideals of human lib­erty and phi­los­o­phy, betrayed by those who shout free­dom from the high­est heights…

We are left to hold back the night. As long as I’ve known this, as long as I’ve felt that call­ing shud­der through my bones, I’m still racked by the knowl­edge that we are not enough. I am not enough. I can­not help those who refuse help, and I can­not recon­struct the crum­bling pages of his­tory. Even if I could, I’m not good enough, not pure enough. In my heart of hearts, I am tired and shriv­eled with the knowl­edge of worldly hope­less­ness. We are left to hold back the night. Just to hold it off a lit­tle while longer, longer and longer. Until it’s time. I know that super­nat­ural hope. I have that, but our plight still aches. Twilight is a tired and lonely place to linger, left more painful with the knowl­edge that I have been sleep­ing while on watch.