What we never learned from Plato

Everything is power. Whether we like it or not. It’s hidden in the pretext, subtext and context of every relationship, every book, every great work of art. No place for beauty or truth. No place for love or virtue. No such thing as an ideal. And so we sit around the fire in cold darkness of our cave, scratching ourselves, thinking of the next hunt, what meat will fill our bellies. And in our spare time, we fight over the shape and meaning of the shadows reflected on the wall of our cave, created by the figures who stand outside in the light near the entrance. We argue about whether they are friend or foe, we talk of our fears, and even our words are corrupt and deceptive. Sometimes, when the disagreement and distrust has reached a heightened pitch inside the cave, we fashion tools of power to gain the upper hand, and use them to bloody each other for the sake of our mistaken beliefs, convictions and desires. In our ignorance, of our ignorance, we forever fail, each other and ourselves.