words.
sometimes spoken in haste.
with deliberation we close our eyes –
hurl them like rocks against tin roofs.
perhaps its the sound of our frustration we need to hear.
regardless the damage resulting from the storm.
words.
sometimes captured –
corralled within the confines of black and white supposition.
less likely to be misread,
yet more available for misinterpretation –
inflection lost within the paradigms of silence.
words.
too many.
too few.
platform of inference.
epitaph of indifference.
how many moments of magnificent because of;
emotions subjugated by too few?
when compelled by conviction,
we manipulate monologues in an attempt to solicit solidarity.
our truth –
perfect;
our opinion –
unalienable.
and if,
by chance,
our doctrines met with opposition,
we fail to contemplate opportunity for conformity.
how sad –
to misunderstand the significance of the chaos!
of course –
life free of turmoil –
epitome of peace-on-earth –
preferred method of presentation.
but life survived in spite of;
experience of calm after the storm;
amazing spectacle of sunrise –
chasing demons of darkness into the light;
surely that contrast allows ownership of appreciation.
less likely are we,
in our human condition,
to take blessings for granted,
after spending time on our knees seeking recompense for behavior undeserving of even the presumption of forgiveness…
standing too close to the edge 