To Typing Into The Internet (twelfth letter)

You bring people to an unspoken emptiness.  Seemingly everything that has ever been known, and everything that will ever be worth knowing, waits us out indifferently, accumulating silently, incomprehensible in scope, as search engines facilitate trivia games, predation and online shopping sprees.
Will we ever utilize this situation to our benefit – for that thing some call the common good?  It’s a pattern we can’t recognize.  How can we know what we need to look for before we start looking for it?  We’ve given away our privacy, our compulsions, our unwitting and cultivated desires, our capital within deregulated labour markets, and still we have no idea.
We drift and discover but always towards and within nowhere, within and towards nothing in particular.  I’ve been trying to make sense of it through you.  I’ve been trying to direct myself while lost, as I would in a thrift store or library, some house party or foreign city.
An old song haunts these grave adventures, provoking us from a stillborn utopia:
Frontiers that divide the people,

Soon we’ll tear apart.

The masses speak a thousand tongues –

But have one heart.

For the workers no boasting Fatherlands,

Only freedom and peace,

So that through peace and freedom

All may find release.

The men sing as they work.

The women sing at their tasks.

All the World is singing

When the people are free at last.

Here’s hoping we’ll never forget it.