When I used to look on innocence, what struck me was a sort of awed resonance, a warm familiarity that here was rightness and truth. Simple trust like I held in my very own heart. Here dwelled all that was pure and good and worth pursuing.
But over time, recognition and appreciation gave way to pity. Innocence was not right, or intelligent. It was the product of studied ignorance, blind indifference to the actuality of corruption, desire, filthiness, and imperfection all around.
Then came disdain.
And so on.
But still, I see innocence. Look on with watering lips. I still see beauty, for purity is always beautiful, but where once I longed to assimilate, join, purify too; then caress, then change, transform, distort; I now want only to destroy. Corrupt. Consume with corruption until there is nothing but the same black emptiness that lies beneath all innocence from its inception.
I am an animal. And animals need animals. Dumb, blind animals to ingest and process, to nurture the only truth there is to know. Believe or don’t; it makes no difference. The same end comes for us all.