Chris Milne Writes: Poetry, Philosophy and Essays

Depending where one stands,
Some things are out of sight.
We all are where one lands.
Life grants what we see, with her light.

For it is our constitution, 
Our experiences and temperament,
That construct our conscious attention. 
We see where we ought to look.

And that somewhere,
Though few recognize,
Is older than we care:
To admit, to cognize. 

For how many humans had to act,
For our instincts to be solidified, 
For us to move not needing to react?
Our instincts run deep: they are codified.

We should thank our ancestors,
We owe them a great debt.
They suffered, yet we ignore.
For they left us a great net.

That is what society does too.
We fail to see how lucky we are, 
For the world we came into.
It was built with blood, yet we see no scar.

We all in some way,
Have survivor bias.
For we forget we are all the result,
Of the winners of the struggle for life. 

And this luck, that brought us here.
Determines the way we stay clear.
Of the troubles they saw before,
And the ones that will be, forever more. 

This is our power,
Our individual mastery of the struggle for life.
Human culture is the collection of specializations.
The unique way we conquered the eternal strife.