The
country has verbs, no more than the valley, much more vocal than the skies.
Making selection, often the miles, asking for consecration. If the bear is
silent, it’s hibernating; if the mat is wet, along the ridges, we wonder about
morning dew. To speak essence, is an invitation, many are territorial about
chi, and close to lost over spirit. (A subtle assertion has been made.)
Scholastics put time into assertion. Most will speak to haphazardness, others, to
design, not to mention, universal intelligence—an entity, teleological, moving
elements with a purpose; more will point at the chaos, gratuitous evil, the
understanding of good vs. bad. Some argue souls yield the good, naturally
disposed, many contend against that: humans are innately changed, nothing
definite, subject to act according to caprice and whimsy. The soul is blank at
birth, this is the argument, it mimics what it has been taught. There are parts
to ideas. And parts missing.
