Suppose you were the very last…

It’s not true, but for sanity today it seems most useful to suppose I am the very last soldier of humanism, of civilization, potential, and progress beyond the material, technological, presently-understandable—the very last alive and fighting, a secret partisan for a reformation of intellect, creativity, and spirit in the midst of a dead culture—all echoes, reactions, politics and other devouring shallow sensations, a last vaunting glory of wastelands that still look like cities. For then I am not worried to feel cut off from comrades, whom I no longer expect to find. For then I do not question whether it matters if my sacrifices go unrewarded and unheralded. For then a clear, stubborn answer to despair wells up in words like: fight on alone! Go down fighting! —the bold sentiment of a soldier of civilization who marches unrested through the cold to a university bookstore without a single student in it, a scouting expedition, perhaps to recruit a few dead thinkers. Quick, boys, over the (lap)top! and let us grimly write a few more badge-of-honor books, out of step with these times and full of resolve to seek wisdom, before the grave. And all thoughts of resignation to a few softening pleasures are for a moment forgotten in struggle for its own sake.


One response to “Suppose you were the very last…

  1. Pingback: Redux | Wisdom Dancer

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