Rocket ship

She said, “The age of ambition is coming to a close.”
For her, it might be the end of wanting a baby.
The end of wanting marriage.
The end of wanting a traditional story.

But if ambition for an age as grand as Pisces were ending, that would be something else.
As if armies of people decided to end their pursuit of love.
That would be pole shifting.
But then another age would come – maybe Aquarius.
Maybe one with something like artificial intelligence as it’s badge.
But isn’t all intelligence artificial?
Reason-making of the human kind.
Contrived anything is not the thing itself.
So intelligence, yes, artificial intelligence, no.
There’s no such thing as AI.
There is only one thing happening here and it’s not guided by any man’s thoughts.

But a man making stories about it is quite grand.
A giant intellectual man making sense of stars in the sky and dinosaur bones in the ground.
That man as ambitious as a child making mud pies in a makeshift backyard kitchen.
No ambition for intellectual or toddler, really.
Just sense making in a nonsense world.
Assembling for fun.
Disassembling for more fun.
Mud patties drying on a discarded barbeque grill.
A garden hose to disintegrate them with glee.

So her ambition will inevitably be replaced by another one.
Perhaps a desire to see clearly.
Perhaps a want to see through filtered lenses – adding on ideas where none are necessary.

Or maybe she’ll just stare at the moon on a quiet pre-dawn drive and realize there was never any ambition – even in the age of space rockets.