The lineage of man is a mysterious,labyrinthine jungle whose crown,enshrouded in the mist from a boundless sea,stretches ever more majestic from the damp,dull swelter towards the limpid sun. Whilethe will to beauty encrusts the peak withflowers, perfumed and colorful, there in thedepths a riot of weird growth proliferates. Asthe dusk sun wains, a row of red parakeetsalight upon the crest of swaying palms like asquadron of kingly dreams. From anundergrowth already submerged in night,the chaotic back and forth of creeping andcrawling animals menace – torn from sleep,the lair, the warm nest – there the screechinghowl of victims, the silent assault of greedytooth and claw, deft at dealing death.Just as the jungle strains ever more loomingand massive towards the heights, feeding onthe detritus of its feculent floor, powers ofgrowth from its own disintegration; so tooeach new generation of mankind takes rootin a ground stratified by the rot of countlessprevious ones who repose there after thewhirl of life is through. Indeed the bodies ofthose deceased, their dance now done, are asnothing, scattered in the fleeting sand ordecaying on the floor of the sea. In ceaselessexchange, however, their particles, theiratoms are seized again by the living, thevictorious eternally young, and thus elevatedto the eternal source of vital energy.Eternal worth belongs as well to thesubstance of life’s existence: every thought,every deed, every feeling that quickened thisendless series of predecessors through life’srealm. Just as mankind is formed from theanimal and its needs, he is rooted ineverything that his forefathers createdthrough fist, mind, and heart over the courseof ages. His lineage is like the layers of a coralreef - each piece is inconceivable withoutthose beings, innumerable and long extinct,upon which it is based. Man is the bearer, thecontinually changing vessel of all that whichbefore him was done, thought, and felt. He isalso the legacy of every aspiration whichonce drove others with an irresistible forcetowards distant, dark ends.As ever, mankind is at work on a tower ofimmeasurable height for whose sake it stacksgeneration upon generation, the state of itsbeing in blood, agony, and desire.The tower may vault to ever more precipitousheights, its battlements elevating mankind tooverlord, offering ever greater, richer landsto view – still the construction does notproceed in easy equipoise. The work is oftenthreatened; walls collapse or are torn downby fools, doubters, and the discouraged. Thereversal of conditions long thoughtovercome, the outbreak of elemental violencebubbling beneath the stiff crust, reveals thevital power of primal forces.The individual is also composed of countlessbuilding blocks. The endless succession ofancestors weighs on him. He is enchained andencased by thousands of bonds, invisiblestrands in the rootwork of the jungle marshwhose festering warmth breeds germinalgrowth. Wildness, brutality, the toxic tint ofthe drives, has indeed been levelled,smoothed over, and dampened during theeons in which society has bridled impulsivedesires and pleasures. And althoughincreasing refinement has certainly purifiedand ennobled him, animality still slumbers atthe base of his being. There is as alwaysmuch animal in him, sleeping under covers ofhabit and conformity on the plush rug of apolished, venal, seamlessly networkedcivilization. The mask drops, however, whenlife’s arc swings back to primal red: he burstsforth naked as ever, the first man, the cavedweller in the full boundlessness of hisunfettered drives. As life recalls its firstfunctions, the patrimony of his forefathersburns in him again. Blood now boils whereformerly it circulated cool and constantthrough his veins in the mechanical pulsationof those stony skeletons called cities. Andthough it rested for a long time hard and coldin hidden depths, the archaic stratum meltsagain in a white-hot glow. It hisses about him– blaze, blast, annihilating eruption –whenever he descends into those snarlingshafts. Riven by hunger, in the breathlessbraiding of the sexes, in mortal encounter: heis ever the ancient one.MAN'S WORLD
As ever, mankind is at work on atower of immeasurable height forwhose sake it stacks generationupon generation, the state of itsbeing in blood, agony, and desire.MAN'S WORLD 106
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