Life was charmed but without politics or religion. It was the life of children of the children of the pioneers -life after God- a life of earthly salvation on the edge of heaven. Perhaps this is the finest thing to which we may aspire, the life of peace, the blurring between dream life and real life - and yet I find myself speaking these words with a sense of doubt. I think there was a trade-off somewhere along the line. I think the price we paid for our golden life was an inability to fully believe in love; instead we gained an irony that scorched everything it touched. And I wonder if this irony is the price we paid for the loss of God.
The narrative reflects on a seemingly idyllic life devoid of political and religious influences, portraying it as a peaceful existence that lies between dreams and reality. This life represents a continuation of the pioneering spirit, achieving an earthly sense of salvation. However, the speaker expresses a deep-seated doubt about this state of being, suggesting it may come at a significant cost.
Amid the peacefulness, there’s a troubling irony that seems to taint this otherwise golden existence. The author speculates that the loss of a higher belief, such as God, may have led to a diminished capacity to fully embrace love. Instead of genuine affection, there remains a stark irony that affects all aspects of life, prompting a reflection on the sacrifices made for this apparent tranquility.
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All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.
Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!
