As man attempts to ascend to Heaven, he has forgotten how to live on earth. He has forgotten ethical and moral values, he has deliberately lost himself in the chaos of the unspeakable. All of this is worse than the fracture between life and death. Indifference, selfishness, egocentrism, gratuitous evil are all the rage, and social and political commitment to the weakest classes and society is a sin.
The elderly are considered junk, a hindrance to daily life, a discontent that turns into hatred, ultimately culminating in tragedy, instigated by that ego nourished by a heartfelt rage amidst abuse and murder. Human contact is disappearing. The internet attracts the unwary who do everything to gain prominence, like fire attracts moths. Sometimes to manipulate, sometimes to be manipulated. This evil spreads with alarming pervasiveness.
Only a few individuals, caught in the „cobwebs,” have had the courage to speak out. The digital world is more impervious and complex than certain human traits. The elderly are more afraid of living than of dying. Many live as inmates, constrained by a merciless silence, seeking those forms that have lost their center but retain their symbols. The literati are a class apart. Their experience recovers the Principle where the form is emptied, but does not dissolve, remaining, preserving the thought of tradition. Interiority is inviolable.
It often happens that the elderly demonstrate with their actions and their wisdom that distinguishing oneself does not mean contradicting oneself, but being lucid in a past-present, but also nostalgic: it is not a stone wall or a collapsing building. Death, which others wish upon them, is also the idea, the word that, even while bleeding, retains its characteristic, that which goes beyond direct reality.
Karma is the universe, a witness that circumscribes the experience of pain and the uncertainty of existence, sealing the cracks in words, giving them a name and a soul, restoring their dignity, far from the ravenous and social masks, from corrupt politicians and subservient intellectuals. Words flourish again like the shards of a Japanese vase that is „cured” with gold (kintsurgi), embellishing its scars. They free themselves from their bloody sweat by wrapping themselves in the silk of justice, coloring it with light, the same light that Humanity has lost, far from consensus and possession.
Birth is a trauma, the actions that follow words are blades that inhabit the time of the Spirit. Elsewhere, the light dragged his body, which clung to pain like a glove. The scribe, bent in the night, fed pages of tomes. Truth is sacrifice, and it shoots arrows of love that touch the heart and soul of Culture, when tears break like bread and Literature rests in the stone of History.
Storms, genocides, wars have tried in vain to kill memory, but the writer’s faithfulness transcends culture and holds high the torch of Literature. Evil has the face of a shadow and will always spy on us like a silent monster, stretched out among mossy rubble. The dead find no peace, their bodies stretched out on the metal of the evening, while their tears, black as tears, smell of thyme and roses. Fears continue to beat like raindrops on glass. The word creates a universal impact, it is pain that goes beyond the ink of the stage and persists in the nervous system, preserving the skill of the gaze and the dramatic truth that follows that of fiction.
The shadows remain hanging from the ceiling, where crime often becomes culture and the corrupt toast success. But voices are not numbers, they are groans that breathe, festering wounds, and breaking bones.
The People fear words more than court sentences. From all the words they steal, stab, flay, and drink their blood. The People show an angelic face, pretend to be a prophet but remain an exalted robot.
Anger has the color of poppies, lies become habit, like a wheel that turns around itself. Each of us runs the risk of sinking; art and literature are born from small, silent moments, and sensitivity is recognized by details. Culture rejects the study of the „sleepwalker” and the painful process of obedience (Franco Fabbro, Hypnosis and the Social Brain, Mimesis).
Social structures are often prisons, exile, devastation; „that slow death that men call the progress of the world.” Separating the soul from thought becomes dangerous, scandalous, inhumane, criminal.
„Evil arises from the inability to think, that is, from the inability to reason with one’s own head, delegating decisions to legitimate authority” (Hannah Arendt).
Maria Teresa Liuzzo
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