On the Meaning of Humanity

“Non nobis solum nati sumus.”
(Not for ourselves alone are we born.)
-Cicero

We must first assert that man has a natural inclination to fulfill his purpose, that is, to help others, just as a mother has a natural inclination to protect and care for her young.

But when in the wake of human consciousness, man decides to smite his fellows, there dies within him a certain distinguishing characteristic, a certain longing for the beautiful, the righteous, and the compassionate.

Men go to war with themselves before war with others, and erode the perfection withheld by the innocent child they once were, so as not to preclude their acts of unkindness.

We are most human when humanitarian, but when all humanitarian aspects of the human heart and mind have been eroded, when man loses his soul and the charitable purpose of existence, can he still be deemed… human?

A Forgotten Fleet

This text can be categorized as ‘inspired writing’, for the reason that it was written through one single burst of inspiration, with the┬ámy inability to understand┬ámy own writing up until completion.
Such forms were common among the Ancient Greeks, where the words were commonly attributed to oracles rather than poets.
My personal interpretation of this phenomenon is that of a mind which speaks freely to itself as the conscious entity eavesdrops on the inner conversation.
Not to keep you waiting, the text:

They left us here by the shore, a forgotten fleet. And slow, we knew the path, a path down the earth that led to the heavens.

We came here blinded, like men under siege, and when blinds were lifted, all was deceived.

There came us a fellow, he spoke like a toad, and yet my dear fellow, he spoke us the truth. There came with him woman, of greatest physique, of beauty none greater, and eyes none more deep.

And though she called me dreamer, we were all the same. In that little place, we called it an island, we did not know others, the others were we.

There once was a man, forgotten and lost, he found himself with us, and part of us lost.

And though we did know him, he knew not himself, and self did not know him, like souls that run steep.

Photo credit: h.koppdelaney / Foter.com / CC BY-ND