The pain does us, but what do we do with the pain?
The starting point is our concern. The complaint is in the origin.
Do we, the human, have to live with pain?
Or against it, facing it?
Do we need the politics only to lighten the sore of society?
Does the right politics need any law?
Does the individual have the right to avoid the ache?
Is there any relationship between the law and the suffering?
What any politics and all groups of laws offer, stablish and force is a number of criterias concerning the pain.
There is pain in the core of law and in the essence of all politics.
When the night had come, at the begginning, there was a seed
The seed turned into a human being
And took a name
When it was dark on Earth
The moon was the only light it could be seen
An instinct gave it a name and a surname, a grace
And these marked the boundary between reality and fiction
A boundary that today is blurry
Since, the nature itself is just an appearance.
Just like the human nature
As the human is not natural
And
It has never been
Today is in vain to proclaim the return to nature
For the human has never lived in an harmonic relationship with nature.
It has never lived in harmony with its nature.
Because the human was created from the economic seed
So it was its grace
And the economy doesn´t seek balance but profit
The market is not fair, it doesn´t look for justice
It turns human into goods
And instead of searching a balance it aggravates the differences
The assumed humane human doesn´t exist
And such proclaim is invalid
The human recovered its nature thanks to the magic and the religion
And lost its grace
But the market is invisible and it has lots of believers in society
Where has the human got lost?
The moon was the only light it could be seen
An instinct gave it a name and a surname, a grace
And these marked the boundary between reality and fiction
This new human believes in the neutrality of science
And has faith in neutrality of politics
And technology
And law
And medicine
And education
It believes in neutrality
This human doesn´t already feel any passion
For it has become in the draft of what it was
As its arrogan
Its malaise resides in that
As the human has already lost its grace