A Shame

What a shame it would be to tear down an edifice in the throes of despair. Or even worse, to neglect it, coldly, with all the banality of the disaffected dilettante who never found purchase, staked a claim or made a name. Imagine being driven by the morose whims of the worst of your own self, especially when you can see it, feel it, recognise it as an increasingly familiar companion on your decline into indifference, passivity, boredom. At least if you tore it down, you acted with some sort of intentionality, as flawed as it is. To let it gather dust, as you let notions take flight into nothingness, not with the dignity or purpose of prayer, which has a deliberate cogency to it, or else it’s not prayer... But with the dull, ennui of the reformed creative. This, would be a shame, no?