Metaphysical Musings on the Inherent Contradiction of a Notion of Progress

What follows is simply what can only be best described as metaphysical poetry.  I do not intend this to be a philosophical piece, at least not in a technical sense.  It is a poetic musing, partly the product of reflecting on the myth of Prometheus and discussing Nietzsche for the past couple of days.  In some ways, too, it can be considered a kind of cultural criticism though, in truth, I am more reluctant to characterize it as such.  The reason, as paradoxical as it sounds, is that I am not quite sure how to understand it myself just yet.  But that’s precisely the beauty of poetry.  It invites us to take flight into that forbidden realm of the divine in hopes that we might catch glimpses of what would otherwise remain unseen.  Thus, without a clear development of the central ideas and their implications here, I cannot be certain that I believe anything specific that you might read out of this.  Rather, for me, it is a kind of lyrical representation of the way a set of themes configured themselves and emerged momentarily.  I was merely the artist who attempted to capture that configuration without any pretensions to the veracity of its contents; it is the function of the art critic to judge what and whether any of the contents therein are worthwhile.  That is my preface and thus also my warning.  You may want to pass on this post if you do not enjoy poetry and interpretation.  

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