The Great Furnace

The root of civilization lies in the village and the family. The Industrial Age sparked in man the conception that he could disregard the natural order. In place of trees, he would erect great skyscrapers and smother all life in tarmac. He chased what could be and forgot why.

The cosmopolitan ideology was born out of the greatest achievements; the productive forces of the bourgeoisie were unleashed, and all that was organic became fuel for the great furnace. The tentacles of money stretch far. The Pharisees have once again made a market in the temple.

Empires fell as the Merchant Revolution ignited the fire of ambition in all men — that crowns could be smelted into gold, great palaces crumble, and parliaments of bickering thieves make themselves kings. All that was solid melted into air.

The Artist, in contradiction to this, painted great landscapes and high castles, and noble portraits honoring the Theotokos and the Lord. The Merchant State never blessed him; he often chose books over bread. By sheer will alone, he went from pauper to Caesar.

He erected even greater skyscrapers, adorned with vast posters of the proletariat and the peasant working as one. Where he laid tarmac, he sowed the seeds of flowers alongside it. The great furnace burned only what was necessary—to build in honor of the village.