The great ancient minds concluded, all is mind. If the mind is sick and tired, all is sick and tired. We’re at low tide, a desert in formation of the things that truly matter. When the rain comes, it may come in torrents of lashing regret, with the harsh thunder of acknowledgement and the blinding lightning of a too-late introspection, obscuring vision. Dark ages loom from dark moods. The triad rules supreme in these times: ennui, entropy and entanglement. This is the dawn of the ebbing of mirth. Does it also herald the dusk of humanity? Is it too late to tend to the mind that is all? Who are the minders? What’s next?