All We Could Have Been

Porn takes the wind out of our sails. It strips life from those who feel it most. It takes away all our dreams, goals, initiative, aspirations, energy, motivation. It soothes us as though we’ve accomplished, achieved something. We sit, finished, passive. It incapacitates us. Immobilizes us. Turns us into zombies. All we would have been we are not; all we are will not have been. This faux pursuit of manhood has left manhood stripped, tattered, tired, and fixed. The desire for thirst has caused a draught. All potentialities to art, expression, love and feeling are now drained to their dregs, well-mixed and uncut. There is no longer a man but an empty shell. Who he was is gone; what he is will never be. It is an apathy of life. A reclusion of soul. A hollowing joy. An infinite collapse. 

Who is the one who survived? Let him tell us how he climbed out of that bottomless pit from which the proverb spoke of no return. Mighty men there lie slain, their strength sapped. Samson the strongest was bound. David the heartiest made heartless. Solomon the wisest made a puppet. Instead of leading, we are led. Instead of dominion, we are dominated. Instead of clarity, there is a blurring, a fogging of vision. Right is wrong, we don’t know, which way is out. Many are there that she has slain. The feet that go down do not come again. 

And now a plague on both our houses: men too few, women too used. “But as we wind on down the road, our shadows are taller than our soul. There walks a lady we all know, who shines white light and wants to show, that everything still turns to gold. And if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last.”

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