the ventriloquist mirror—present with
absoluteness—a heart with excellence.
a deep need for normality—albeit,
anti-normality—the paradox of existence.
consensus says earth is totality.
experience says different. to know is to try silence, literary devices, social
patience.
many idiosyncrasies, we must
adjust, we do in the name of love. many are taking the leap.
much pressure to love like
compassion, to hold the locket, palm in fist, dream and pain.
an infatuation can be overlooked.
perfection of silence, loud inside, can go in either direction. it’s obvious
when feelings blossom.
a soul walks by his calamities. he
sees reality. the discord is the existence of the theft.
theologians and psychologists and
philosophers of every trade are having a difficult time with human behavior; it
outwits anything absolute—some might argue against that point.
confusing like exegesis, like
interpreting scripture, either esoteric or literal, either way, there is
difficulty.
such an ice age, to produce beauty,
much was sacrificed.
it seems ridiculous. the whole enchilada
is spoiled. many nudge and push—to know tomorrow’s agenda. people like
immediacy, a solution, some force and demanding, while they deliberate on their
own understanding—withdrawn from making hasty decisions.
it becomes a staircase. each step
is uncertain, at points, inconsistent. the laugh is muffled. tough talk is
buried. a person is face-to-face with something humiliating, necessary, and
destined (How does one balance that out?).
many will conceive of the phoenix;
many will become the uncaged bird; many more will face similar distractions,
come to unfortunate conclusions, and gain faith in the design, if honest with
self.
