The golden oxen

We made away with the ever vigilant eye when we destituted the golden oxen.

We did not desire to be watched, to be controlled, to be judged at all times.

We wished for freedom, for the abolishment of the chains, for the fall of the giants, for the dawn of the era of man.

Instead we witnessed our efforts fade like sain slides between a childs fingers, evading their grasp.

Religions rose, controlling, contriving, cunning convoluted and chaotic contrivances.

Empires fell, dull, disastrous, despotic leaders torn down from their thrones.

Technologies evolved, teaching, telling, sharing, spelling the words for the future to come.

Ideas took over, better, worse, worst, best, some best kept under lock and key, some best shared with the world.

But in the end, even though we thought the golden oxen to be erradicated from the world, they had been biding their time, from the shadows, from the depths, like a titan waiting for the time of man to come to an end.

And they rose, magnificent, apparently magnanimous, promising freedom we already had, stability we had already achieved, security we had already made for ourselves. They coated, concealed, inscrutably and indeterminately hid it from us, told us it was for the best. It was in our interest. Meanwhile they moved with their maquinations, making the world a maquiavelian nightmare.

And we sat and watched.

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