Modernity aspires but is built on shaky ground.
Our knowledge so finite, much
built on superstition and ignorance.
The infinite beyond ours to know.
Slowly, so slowly our knowledge grows,
building on itself expanding faster as time goes on.
How much can we hope to know with knowledge being infinite?
How much longer can we follow the word of those who lived so long ago,
who knew little more than superstition? Is there comfort in not knowing?
Is ignorance truly bliss? Can the human mind as constituted handle the truth,
or will it drive us insane? We are the product of our little world,
designed just right for the place.
It’s been said that we can handle the truth.
I wonder if that’s really so?