into flesh, spurs filled with
debris, mud trickling down sinuses; in the fields, running through tobacco,
pausing to catch fresh winds; the mind of the savage, to imagine a conscience,
if winning, never affronted, a land mocked by philosophy. the theologian is
wrestling—how to say those things? those horrible conclusions? the bible is off
the mantle, a soul, in her pain, studies nonstop; pure bleating, trying to
uphold integrity, so much invested in paradox—so much addressed by feminists;
the ground on which to fly, to soar, surrendering to Glory. we might examine
some edge, some fringe, some cliff—we might leap, eyes heavy with madness,
minds filled with waterfalls—cascading into an abyss. how to endorse human
thoughts? another says, “He goes too far!” maybe? maybe further—or not far
enough?
as a fortunate person, to debate facts, often interrupted by expectation; to
examine an error, as arrant souls, it isn’t true just because—it must carry
universal, unequivocal and prominent components—it must be flawless—and
unfortunately, outside of positions, we’ve not landed on infallible maxims. we
have something different. if a claim makes life better, as perceived in that
moment, we endorse the given understanding until something better comes to pass
(many of us—do this with humans also); nevertheless, the premise must speak to
longevity, peace on some level, and it must appeal to commonsense. it might be
added that, the maxim must be in alignment with human tendency; another would
argue, this is what training is for, we can’t rely on human tendency; indeed,
this becomes complication, in a civilized society.
