the vaultkeeper has been absent, away at war, the
funny bone is aching. one has eyes to see, ears to hear, trekking through
weeds; the dove tail is watching.
i saw a ship—afar the high seas—filled with aquarium
skies.
so much polite indifference, or genuine concern—the
issue is trying to remain professional—and close.
aside oaken years, metallic gears, many jeers and
jabs;
pure blithe, impassive smiles, or trying to get an
understanding.
life starts at square one. it hurts at square two. in
trying to survive, one is forced to ignore others – many more will reach for
community.
inkstone blinders. thief and temple. inkblots and
prejudice.
in getting wisdom, knowledge, understanding—separation
ensues.
the lonely reader. the avid studying. the rapacious
hunger. segues into isolation.
from abstracts to physics, sensing humanity, asking
for more than attributes—needing more than definitions; many are owning their
words.
etymologists and stoics.
