landscaping

Some time ago, a man's pick axe worked at chipping away the walls separating Good and Bad, Moral and Immoral, Meaningful and Meaningless. He thought for whatever reason that they needed to go. Either they were in the way,  or maybe he just thought they were ugly. But he hadn't had much training in the use of pick axes against walls, and he went about it in a rather haphazard fashion, and as a result of his work, all the walls collapsed together into giant heaps, clogging up the paths, and obscuring the horizons in mounds of rubble. If only those walls were still standing, he could look at the mess and view the present state as bad and chaotic and work to sort it out into a more harmonious and ordered landscape, but now that they're down, he no longer sees any advantage in harmony and order over discord and chaos, so he sits in the center, not working because there is nothing to accomplish. He views work as rests equal. He has no reason to work and no reason to rest but that resting is less tiring than working.

Here's to the man, and hoping he makes something cool with the rubble.