
Darkover
Archangel
- Jul 29, 2021
- 5,568
What is framed as a gift — the miracle of life — is, under this lens, a silent curse passed down. In a world already aflame with pain, entropy, and disintegration, each new life is not a rescue but more fuel for the fire.
The child, unaware, unconsenting, is thrust into a reality stitched together by struggle: hunger, isolation, disease, labor, loss. To be born is to inherit a body that will decay, a mind that must grapple with mortality, and a world that demands endless endurance.
Bringing life into a suffering world may be seen not as creation, but as complicity. It is to burden a new being with the weight of existence — to ask them to survive in a place where safety is an illusion and joy, at best, fleeting. The parent may act in love, in hope, or in ignorance, but the consequence remains: another soul sentenced to walk through fire.
Is it noble to give life — or is it kinder to refuse to chain another to the wheel of becoming, to the endless hunger of a world that consumes all it births?
The child, unaware, unconsenting, is thrust into a reality stitched together by struggle: hunger, isolation, disease, labor, loss. To be born is to inherit a body that will decay, a mind that must grapple with mortality, and a world that demands endless endurance.
Bringing life into a suffering world may be seen not as creation, but as complicity. It is to burden a new being with the weight of existence — to ask them to survive in a place where safety is an illusion and joy, at best, fleeting. The parent may act in love, in hope, or in ignorance, but the consequence remains: another soul sentenced to walk through fire.
Is it noble to give life — or is it kinder to refuse to chain another to the wheel of becoming, to the endless hunger of a world that consumes all it births?