The old man, old before his time perhaps walked down the street, sweet wrappers and other litter blew about like the autumn leaves of old but very few
leaves were actually among the dirt that filled the gutters of the streets.
It was a warm day but here and there patches of dampness clung in the shadows hinting at the rain that had fallen the night before and despite the
sun there were plenty of cloud's breaking up the grey blue of the sky above.
He thought to himself and seeing a graffiti covered bench sat down on it looking out over the busy road oblivious to the stupidity of a bench with a
view of nothing, perhaps some could see art in life were he could see nothing but that was not his train of thought.
The world he thought to himself was in a state of deep depression, gone was the optimism of past generation's, gone the hope for the future and
instead of governments praising and investing in there young these day's they seemed to be more worried about balancing the book's, keeping people in
there place and helping out the rich while the root's of society decayed as if people did not matter to them any more.
There had been other times, back in the 1940's after the war people had been filled with hope though the cold war that nearly turned hot with the war
in Korea and later Vietnam had put paid to much of that hope as at times the cold war had felt oppressive but at least then people had an external
enemy to focus upon.
Now people were confused, hope for the future was absent and so too was that optimism that had fuelled the great social revolutions of the 50's, 60's
and 70's only to come to a grinding halt in the mid 1980's.
Children they were the future but who cared about them now, children were often seen as an inconvenience or in the way of careers, careers that went
nowhere, people had forgotten they were part of society not apart from it, that unless they created the next generation they would be the ones living
in the age when the root's died and the branches with them, society needed it's children but it seemed that some hidden anarchists in powerful
positions were intent on destroying established society, promoting migration to steal the children of other nations and brainwashing society with
media campaigns.
The Kid's what there were of them were not even reading book's any longer, no the escape of his generation was becoming an alien medium to them with
there phones always stuck to the sides of there heads or there games consoles.
He looked around, when was the last time he had seen a group of kid's playing out on there bikes, building home made ramps and just enjoying
themselves.
So much had gone wrong with the world, he despaired for the future.
And he remembered one of the ten commandment's, Honour your parents that you may live a long life.
The meaning was missing on most as they lacked insight but it was clear to those that knew, as you teach your children so do you sow the seed's of
the future, as you treat your parents so must you teach your children to treat you, family's are meant to be together.
But this world.
No room for being human any longer, people were just corporate assets, wage slaves chasing after there careers, careers that left them barren on the
tree, shrivelled fruit that left no future generation to follow after them, a lost generation destined to extinction squeezed dry by corporate greed
and false equality that took mothers away from there children and made men too poor to pay for there family's.
No everything was wrong.
The tree that was society had been poisoned at it's root's and it was only a matter of time before it died.
Scavengers would pick over it's carcass like a dead animal and the few that were meant to inherit would be disinherited by waves of migration from
society's that though often less humane had kept on watering there own root's, creating there children and through those children they would reap what
had been squandered by those that had engineered this downfall.
And he knew it had been engineered, fool's that though they could control destiny, social engineers that thought they were better than God and knew
more than the wise men of old.
He lamented the fall of society, it was dead walking and did not even know it but he could not see when it would fail just that it would and soon,
soon as within a few generations unless there was a sudden boom in the numbers of children being born and unless those in power then invested in those
kid's.
Those in power though were blind, dumb, selfish short sighted fool's.
The old man closed his eye's and thought about his mother, his own childhood, not a perfect one but his happiest and safest memories were back then
when she was such a strong protective figure and it seemed like she could take on the world to protect her children.
God he whispered, I am tired please may I go home soon back to my mum.
Soon he stood up and walked leaning heavily on his stick, more hunched than before and looking older, somehow he felt like the world was his fault
though he was just one old man.
Just a man in a near reality that vanished into the haze of the warm day as he walked off becoming indistinct, soon his thoughts that were silent so
never heard were lost as well.
edit on 29-6-2021 by LABTECH767 because: (no reason given)