We tell ourselves we’re special...
Chosen. Civilized. Superior. But zoom out far enough and you see it: we’re just somewhat clever animals with thumbs and data plans—still howling at the unknown, still crawling through the dirt we swear we’re above.
We like to think we’re more than beasts…
We have built concrete jungles to keep the soil from our soles—forgetting the dirt is us, was us, will be us again. We swipe and scroll, bark our half-truths into the void, call it progress, call it connection—call it anything but what it is.
Clever animals with WiFi…That’s All…
Nervous systems fried on caffeine and dopamine loops, hunched in climate-controlled caves, pretending our bones don’t ache for the hush of leaves, the cleanse of rain. The raw honesty of sunshine on skin. Acknowledgement: we belong to the same wildness we paved over.
We spin our holy ghost stories to keep the dark at bay…
Holy texts and testaments, manifestos, cosmic hopes. Anything to make the shadows feel less endless. But when one ghost story threatens another? These animals sharpen sticks, build bombs, and pretend that war is somehow sacred.
We whisper to the stars, Tell us we matter...
But the stars just burn—indifferent, beautiful, still. No chosen beasts, no cosmic scoreboard, just the hush of wind through branches, the soft confession of dirt beneath fingernails. An owl, pausing at dusk for a moment of peace, knows more about holiness than any priest ever will.
The absurdity is this: we know and we participate anyway….
We know the blood on our hands is our own. We’re smart enough to wonder if we might plant trees instead of flags. Bury our stories in the soil so something truer might grow. Remember we’re dirt-bound, stardust-laced, temporary. Belonging isn’t about a heaven above—it’s the roots we forgot we had.
So what if we stop pretending…
What could we touch, tend, or save—knowing we’re mere animals, breathing through the absurdity, roots curled quietly beneath the shine of screens?
We’re beasts with holy ghost stories—at least make yours worth telling...