Off The Grid

I was born in the wrong generation, I fear.
My soul yearns for a time less complicated.
But the paradox I am caught in is simple.
I want a simpler life, but I am used to comfort and security.
With simplification comes hardship and hard living.
Just ask an octogenarian.

Here and now I have everything I need. All is handed to me.
What I need is taken for granted. What I want, I buy.
My climate is always controlled.
Technology is the great blessing and the great curse.
I long for a time with fewer people, fewer cars, and fewer houses.
Yet my purse is lined with profits from those who use the technology I despise.

There is no going back to the days where the land was pristine
And not encroached upon by the masses.
I never knew those times, yet I miss them. How could this be?
My imagination glorifies the past.
Would I have been just as displeased then?
Probably.