The evil of the 9-11 events is surpassed easily by that of many others in the history of our nation. However, they now represent part of the zeitgeist of this generation, part of what has shaped the way our people view the world. These events have both unified and divided, depending on how far out one takes one's objectivity. And, blinded as I am by the tinted lenses of my culture, my upbringing, my beliefs, I am not fit to say whether or not these events were a true evil.

I believe them to be one, of course, but I cannot render judgment on them, blinded as I am by who I am. And where I come from.

On 9-11, I was not particularly aware of what had happened until several hours afterward. Even then, they were unreal, distant, removed from me, and only recently have they registered as a distinct, concrete, immovable, unchangeable part of my experience.

And now that I can finally look back and say, Yes, this happened, Yes, this is where and when and what and.... Why.

One can easily glance at atrocities and label them atrocities, and one can easily leave it at that. But also one can step back a little further, or a little closer, and realize that there might be more.

Faith is such an enigma now, with science explaining the old tenets of spirituality. Belief isn't exactly the best substitute for hard evidence. I assume that religion had more meaning when there was nothing to refute it. There was a perfectly logical backing behind it. Religion provided meaning, provided truth, provided all the things men live for.

And still does. Maybe religion means more today than ever. Maybe it's not quite as inherent a part of life, maybe there are no more crusades, or maybe we pretend there aren't. Maybe dogma means more when there is something to fight, someone that doesn't agree with you. I hate to quote, and I hate it even more when I can't recall who said it, but I must, for there are no better words than those which I have read.

"One man's terrorism is another man's heroism."

We cannot label any acts such as these, at all.

For "Al Qaeda offers everything an ambitious, passionate young man in the 21st century could want. A higher moral purpose; a reason for living, a reason for dying, fame, love and lasting memory. And if I was a young Westerner living in an alternate reality where Islamic fundamentalism has the same grip on the world that Western capitalism does here, and I had to fight for my right to get off my head, see girls in short skirts, and prance around to electronic music, then whoever took Al Qaedaís place in that dimension would certainly be able to sign me up straight away. ëDeus magnificatí (Latin for ëGod is greatí, like the fundamentalists say ëAllah Akbarí) we'd proudly declare as we blew ourselves up in flip-flop stores."

A bit off yes, a bit confused, contradictory, a bit extreme.
A bit true.

But then, if we can look at it this way, so can they.
They being anyone outside of our circle.

The all inherent "They," with capital letters, which either denotes those who tell us what has happened, or those who committed the act we are just being told about.

"I always thought it was those that didnít care - the corporate sharks or corrupt politicians who fucked it up for everyone else. But Iím starting to think itís those of us who care a little bit too much who really do the damage."

But who am I talking about, I have forgotten. Us or Them.
They cared to much, more than we did.
But maybe that's just me, born and raised caring more than They do.

I can't answer any queries, just present the fallacies.
And leave the rest of these old questions up to you-

We can't start from a beginning that was lost so far before,
Nor end without repenting for our sins,
But let there be a broken standard, let there be a quest to seek,
Will the lightness be but brighter for the dark?
For the lives of countless millions,
few would trade the blood of God,
And discover where our steps have carried us.
Do we blindly follow through with,
What we scorn and show detest for?
We shall fall, we've lost our way, we'll never know.

Through the endless ending aeons there has been an untold story,
Repeated by the tongue of every man.
Shouted from the heavens and resounding from the darkness,
The abyss can tell a story if a person's there to hear.
So we listen without action and we practice, I mean preach,
The proverbs and the fables and the ancient monomyth.
Are we better for our learning?
Can you see a different man?
Is the tempting all the same for all our strife?
There is still a tree to take from and there's still a life eternal,
Or so we tell ourselves so we can eat.

But if we have tasted knowledge and if we have known the darkness,
Then where can we go now aside from here?
Continue down a pathway made of stone and rent of meaning,
While we search and strive for all the things we've lost?
If there is or was an after, if there was something before,
Then why do we live only here and now?
And if there isn't, if we're all, if life's only what we're living,
We can make from all the ether of the world,
Some strange purpose, men to serve us, gods to give us depth and power,
We can shape the answer as to what we choose.
Or so we think until the end comes,
So believe the son's of Adam,
So we think and so we act so far we live.

And do we live as so we think, or are others living for us,
But then again, what is a man without his men?
What is this world around us but what we see and long and hope for,
And fail to see and fail to ever know?
I suppose that something else lies sleeping dormant 'neath the surface,
But I doubt that it will ever see the light,
If things continue as they are, and if mankind continues living,
And if it wakes, and if it lives, we'll never see.

But then again, who understands?
Who can lead us from our prison?
And who can find a piper who will play a lilting tune?
Now the island's full of rats that only look to one another,
And the mirror's cracked and broken, who will lead us to the truth?

You're a liar and you know it, but do those around you see?
Or, are they enchanted by the spell?
You speak in rhymes and riddles, and they love you all the more,
For understanding leads to choices, leads to strife.
We are trapped inside our minds and we refuse to use the keys,
Or should I say that we're fearful of the light,
Of the fire we could use so far to forge away our bondage,
But we're locked inside these chains until we burn ourselves of flesh.
These imperfect realms of matter in which all is but the same,
Just in a different place, a different form,
But as long as we can find forms that are pleasing to the eye,
We're content to spend our time in slight denial.

But since we all are guilty, there are none to render judgment,
There are no perfect men to cast the stones.
Wallow in the subtle hints and clues that somehow reach us,
And smile and nod and move along your way.
Content with incontentment, pleased with your displeasure,
You measure life by pain and suffering.
So you assume that there is meaning, and the meaning must be grand,
It is pleasure, It's the moment, It is boundless happiness.
And that is what you hope to find and work for in your lifetime,
A utopia of soma and manufactured happiness.
Such a Brave New World is out there,
Full of all the things desired,
Well, actually, we'll desire what they give,
But what would be the difference!
We'll still be happy (won't we?)
I can't see why we shouldn't just continue on our way!
And if you can't see the subtle irony, the sarcasm and the point,
Or if that really isn't much of a dilemma or a choice,
Well, I can't answer any queries, just present the fallacies,
And leave the rest of these old questions up to you.

And in case my midnight ramblings missed it, and I'm fairly sure that they did, my desire for this piece of art stems from the fact that it concisely, distinctly, and in carry-it-in-your-pocket-style ease, captures an event that means so many things to so many people, an event that one might be able to say changed the course of history forever because of the reactions of its victims, and the nation of its victims. An event that was glorious to some and atrocious to some, and invisble to others. Any moment that has the effect that these events have had, any event that can pack such potent and powerful acts and emotions into a time frame small enough that you can play it back in the palm of your hand... Any event such as that deserves to be captured in such a way, and people deserve to see it in such a way. In this piece of art.

Craig Park