Requiem To Innocence

What happened to innocence? I should leave it at that because the guilty one, the thing that murders innocence is Time. And who can fault time? It just happens. Innocence is a man-made ideal because its definition is too obvious. The things of true innocence are natural. Only Man corrupts innocence and over the centuries Man has done a pretty good job of it. How? Man took what is pure and natural and twisted it to meet its uses. Most of the time it tried to replenish what it used and perhaps there are souls who continue that method but greed got in the way. What Man began to depend upon, it had the mind to improve it and to ensure in any way possible, that it would flourish to meet its need and more. If there were more, Man could trade it for what it wanted beyond what it needed and reap great benefits to add to its wealth. Too philosophical? Almost. We as Man are continuing this very practice thousands of years after we first appeared on earth. Every society began by making innocent principals and all, even the greatest of them, turned into what its greed fostered. Ideals and principals and scruples, tenets and laws carved in stone and written in clay and on paper were duplicated to ensure that all Man would follow them thus building a perfect society. Also formed, were those who saw that these laws were kept. But between the lines, in the little spaces between the letters that laid out the principles of innocence, crept Greed snaking its way, growing like an evil ivy  and finally hiding all of the goodness until it became blocked by its own rampant growth. I revel when I read or see or hear about the masses of innocents who give their time and ideas and efforts to be good people. They are the angels. No one hears the details of their quiet non-famous lives while we hear all kinds of verbiage about the famous angels, those who had the fortune of  conditions of wealth, protective loved lives and were fed the best and learned the best and went on to invent and create and manage and rule and all that goodness became well known and admired and emulated. Of them, statues and great monuments and books and paintings of them exist. But there are the innocents who will never be known. Their contributions and unselfish acts weren't recorded or remembered by the masses. Their time may have been short, very short and remembered only by those who benefitted from their generosity. They may be the old grandmothers who took in the children who were loved and fed and comforted. They could be the young men who gave their lives to defend an ideal. They could be children who during their brief time on earth allowed someone to love them so dearly. Or the strong who fought for the weak. Or perhaps they are the poor who share the little they have with others. The ones who do the work that no one else wants to do or abhors, but who give to others who benefit from it. These are the innocents, the ones we can trust but know nothing of. What happened to innocence?