I am the Fool. Not the one who fails to live, nor the one who stumbles in ignorance. I am the Fool because I see, and seeing is a curse in this world.
Every day, I walk among them. The humans. They rush and scream, blinded by desires they cannot name. Money, fame, power—words that shape their lives and destroy their souls. They push, shove, run over one another to reach a stage that promises nothing but emptiness. Civic sense, compassion, humility—these are invisible, forgotten relics. The streets reek of garbage, walls coated in grime, horns screaming over one another like beasts in heat. Yet they blame the world, never themselves.
They stand in line for a promotion, for a coin, for applause, trampling the one behind them, ignoring the one beside them. They study for decades, reading pages of wisdom, memorizing doctrines and rules, yet cannot remember to say thank you, to hold a door, to look into the eyes of another and see a human being. And some, ignorant, uneducated, born into wealth, walk freely as kings, their failures invisible because the world bows to gold.
Religion, too, is a weapon, not a guide. Some bow so deeply they forget the face of the neighbor beside them. Some scoff so loudly at it that they lose the small joys that faith might have given them. Both are fools, just in different attire. One blinded by devotion, the other by disdain. And both fear death, as if understanding morality could save them from what waits beyond.
I watch from the corners. I listen. I see how fear shapes them, how greed corrupts them, how apathy kills them slowly while they believe themselves alive. They do not notice the crying child on the street, the elderly trembling on the steps, the stray dog curled in a puddle. Civic sense—caring for the space they share—is a myth. They scorn those who pick up litter, who speak of rules, who try to save the city from itself. They call civility weakness. They call empathy foolishness.
And yet… animals do not lie. A dog waits for the owner, even when mistreated, and wags its tail without expectation. Birds feed their young, share what little they find. Cats care in quiet, deliberate ways. Even wolves mourn their fallen, protect their own, and understand hunger, pain, loyalty, and love without words. They are simple, yet wiser than the human race that screams about enlightenment while trampling every truth beneath their feet.
I see the irony and it chills me. The humans with their libraries and degrees, their rituals and rules, their wealth and titles—they are the ones who fail at life. And they do not even recognize it. They chase shadows of happiness while ignoring the warmth beside them. They hoard, they build walls, they speak and speak and speak, yet never listen.
I walk the streets, past neon lights that hum like electric prayers, past garbage that festers and ferments like forgotten sins, past the faces of those who do not see me. And I wonder if they ever stop to breathe. Do they ever wonder why the world feels cold, why fear is the pulse of the city? Or is it easier to blame fate, God, society, the neighbor, than to look inward?
Fear—yes, fear is everywhere. Fear of failure, fear of judgment, fear of silence, fear of poverty, fear of being unseen. They live in terror of shadows, while the real darkness is in their hearts, in their neglect, in the lives they trample in their pursuit of hollow triumphs. They fear death, yet they do not fear the dying of their own humanity.
I see them with their endless ambitions, their glittering screens, their piles of money, their degrees, their titles, their ceremonies. And I see the child in the street go hungry, the elderly freeze, the stray dog shiver. And I realize: they have forgotten the simplest lessons. Humanity is not taught in schools. Humanity is not earned in wealth. Humanity is not measured by applause. It is felt. It is lived. It is recognized in the smallest acts. And they—my brothers, my sisters—have abandoned it.
I am the Fool because I see. And seeing is a torment. I cannot turn away. I cannot unsee the folly, the greed, the apathy, the relentless pursuit of things that mean nothing while everything that matters decays.
Yet I continue. I walk. I breathe. I name the things they refuse to name. I catalogue their hypocrisies, their obsessions, their failures. I watch the rich laugh while the poor freeze. I watch the educated debate morality while they trample kindness beneath polished shoes. I watch the devout pray while ignoring the human in need beside them.
And I laugh sometimes. Not in joy. Not in triumph. But in the knowledge that the world is foolish, and I am the one who has been given sight.
Perhaps that is the true terror. That even the wordless creatures know what it means to be humane, while those who speak, write, and teach, fail. Perhaps that is the true horror: that civilization, for all its achievements, has become a house of fools, and I am left alone, wandering its empty halls, bearing witness to their fear, their greed, their despair, and their endless, unseeing chase.
Yes. I am the Fool. And I watch. And I wait. And I see.